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0  Y  E     GIFT, 

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Never  durst  poet  touch  a  pen  to  write. 

Until  his  ink  were  tempered  with  love's  sighs  : 

And  when  love  speaks,  the  voice  of  all  the  gods 

Makes  heaven  drowsy  with  the  harmony. 

SHAK.SPSK3. 

BOSTON: 

^■o. 

NEW   YORK:     SAXTON    fc    MILES. 

184  5. 

CONTENTS. 


PA03 

AEMSXEO>-G,Jon>-,  born  1709,  died  1779, 136 

Atteebcrt,  Fean  CIS,  born  1G62,  died  1731-2, 121 

Attox,  SIR  RoBEBT,  bom  1570,  died  1038,           59 

BAEBArLD,  AxxA  Lj£TITIa,  bom  1743,  died  18_'5,        ....  Ill 

Beacmoxt,  siE  JoH>-,  bom  1582,  died  1628, 70 

BEArMO>-T,  Fe.o'CIS,  bom  1585,  died  1G15, 67 

Behx,  Aphaea,  bora  1630,  died  1686, 109 

Booth,  Baetox,  bom  1681,  died  1733, 128 

Beetox,  Nicholas,  bom  1555,  died  about  1624,         ....  42 

BEOiiE,  Alexaxdee,  bom  1620,  died  1666, 103 

Bkook,  (Fulk  Geetille,)  loed,  bom  1554,  died  1638,    ...  40 

Beovtxe,  William,  bora  1500,  died  1645, 79 

BucKiXGHAii,  DrEE  OF,  bom  1G27,  died  1668, 107 

Bl-lteel,  Jonx,  bom  about  1620, died  1GC9 105 

CAiiPlOX,  THOiiAS,  bom  1577,  died  1640, 58 

Caeew,  Thomas,  bom  1577,  died  1664, 64 

Carey,  Hexey,  died  1743, 132 

Chapmax,  Geoege,  bom  1557,  died  1634, 4-3 

Coxgeeve,  William,  born  1072,  died  1728, 124 

Coxstable,  Hexey,  bom  15<j8,  died  1604, 50 

CoxTOX,  Ch^veles,  bom  1630,  died  1687, 108 


NAMES    OF    AUTHORS. 


CowLET,  AiiHAiiAM,  bora  ICU,  died  IfWr ]0J 

Crawfuki),  William,  bom  1700, 143 

CuTTS,  (BAKOX  GownAX,)  Joiix,  died  17W-5, 120 

Dakiel,  Samuel,  born  15fj2,  died  ICIO, 47 

Davexant,  Sie  ■Willl\m,  born  Km,  died  IOCS, 00 

DoDSLEY,  Robert,  bom  17a3,  died  17G4, I.i2 

Dorset,  EAKL  OF,  bom  lft37,  died  1705-C 113 

Drattox,  MicnAEL,  bom  about  15C3,  died  IGOl,         ....  49 

DiJUMMOxn,  Willl\m,  born  1.585,  died  1040, 72 

Drydex,  John,  bom  1031,  died  1701, 110 

Ethkreoe,  Georoe,  bom  ICa;,  died  1C04, 112 

Falconer,  William, bom  about  17:30,  died  17G0,      ....  140 

Faxsiiau'e,  sir  Richard,  born  1007,  died  lOJC OG 

Field,  Natii.vxiel,  bom  l.V.K),  died  l<i40, 82 

Fletcher,  JoHX,  bom  157G,  died  162a, 07 

Ford,  JoHX,  bom  1.580,  died  about  1040, 75 

Gascoigxe,  George,  bora  about  1540,  died  about  1.578,       ...  23 

Glaptiiorxe,  Hex RY,  born  about  IGOS, 98 

Greex,  RoiiERT,  born  about  l.">54,  died  1.5'.i2, 41 

IIabixotox,  Wn.i.LVM,  bom  ](j<X5,  died  lik54, 87 

Harrixotox,  Joiix,  born  about  15;}4,  died  15.SJ, 21 

Herrick,  Robert,  bora  1.591,  died  about  1004, 83 

Hill,  Aarox,  born  1(»4.  died  1749-50, l-iO 

Jexyxs,  SoAME,  bom  170.'}-4,  died  1787 1.34 

Joxsox,  Bex,  bom  1574,  died  1037 CO 


NAMES    OF    AUTHORS.  Vll 

Ki.vG,  DOCTOR  nzxEV.txim  l.yj2,diedlC(Xi, S<i 

KiXDLEMAKSii,  Feaxcis,  flourished  about  1>D«, 27 

Lax SDOWNE,  LORD,  bom  IC/JT,  died  17;J5 VJi 

Lodge,  Thomas,  bom  about  1.'>G(»,  died  lOi'J 4G 

Lovelace,  Rich.u{d,  bom  1018,  died  1658, 100 

Ltttletox,  loed,  bom  l"0i>-9,  died  177-?, Vio 

SLutLOM'E,  CnEisTOPUEE,  bora  lot>2,  died  1j92,         ....  28 

3Li.KST0x,  Joux,  bom  15CG,  died  1641, 5j 

ilxT,  Thomas,  bom  about  IJjG,  died  ltj52 87 

MiDDLETOX,  Tuomas,  bom  about  ljft5,  died  about  H'.iT,       ...  54 

MiLTOX,Joiix,  bom  1008,  died  1674 07 

OxFOED,  (Edwakd  Tere,)  EAEL  OF,  bora  about  IVM,  died  IGW,      .  22 

Pkmbroke,  EAEL  OF,  bora  alK)utl,>sn, died  lO'W,        ....  63 

Paexel,  TuOMAS,  bom  1079,  died  1717, 127 

rETEEBOROiGir,  E.4BL  OF, bora  10>8, died  17;?5,         ....  119 

Teioe,  3LiTTHE\v,  bom  WU,  died  1721, 121 

riOCHFOBD,(GEOEGE  BOLETX,)  viscOLXT,  bom  I-Xio,  died  lo36,   .  15 

Ru-EiGH,  SIB  Waltee,  bom  1.552,  died  1018, 29 

Raxdolph,  TiiOMAS,  bora  lOa-.,  died  10i4, 01 

RociiESTEE,  EAEL  OF,  bomli'»47,  died  lOsO 116 

Say,  Sajhel,  bom  167.3,  ilied  174'>, 125 

Sedley,  sie  Charles,  bom  about  H>?.),  died  17il8,        .       .       .       .115 

Shakspeee,  Willloi,  bora  1504,  died  1016, 51 

Sidx'ey,  SIE  Philip,  bora  1554,  died  1586, 38 

Smith,  "William,  bora  about  1571, 60 

Spexser,  EDMrxD,lx)ra  about  l.VV?,die<l  1508-0, 34 


NAMES    OF    AUTHORS. 


Stanley,  Thomas,  bora  about  1625,  died  1678, iW 

Suckling,  SIP.  Jonx,  bom  lOX),  died  1641, VJ 

SuEREY,  (IIeney  Howard,)  EARL  OF,  bora  lol6,  died  1.>J7,         .  19 

TuOMSON,  J.viiES,  bom  1700,  died  1748, 130 

Thompson,  William,  born  about  1712, 13r 

Waller,  Edmund,  bora  lC(tt,  died  1CS7 94 

Watson,  TU0M.4S,  bom  15C0,  died  about  1591, 45 

Wn.^LKTON,  (Anne,)  MARCHIONESS  OF,  died  1685,        ....  118 

Williams,  sir  C.  H.,  bom  1709,  died  17.39 139 

Wither,  George,  bom  1588,  died  1667, 77 

WoTTON,  sir  Henry,  bom  1568,  died  1639, 37 

Wyat,  sir  Thomas,  bom  15ft3,  died  1541 17 


INTRODUCTION. 


Some  remarks  on  the  English  amatory  poets,  \vhile 
they  will  best  explain  the  principles  by  which  it  has 
been  directed,  seem  naturally  introductory  of  the 
selection  now  submitted  to  the  public. 


To  the  laws  of  chivalry',  which  demanded  that  a 
knight  should  be  qualified  to  sing  the  praises  of  her 
for  whom  he  aspired  to  contend,  is  probably  to  be 
ascribed  the  partiality  for  amatorial  composition  so 
observable  in  our  early  bards.  Their  songs,  however, 
occupied  with  descriptive  eulogium,  or  an  ostentatious 
display  of  the  attractions  and  qualifications  of  their 
mistresses,  seldom  breathe  that  fervor  of  heart,  that 
seductive  tenderness,  which,  as  it  constitutes  the 
highest  charm  of  such  effusions,  is  indispensably 
required  in  the  poetical  addresses  of  the  present  times. 


[N  ruonrcTiON. 


During  the  reism  of  Henry  the  eighth,  by  whose 
example  the  current  of  fashion  became  diverted  in 
favor  of  gallantry,  Petrarch  was  accordingly  studied, 
and  not  unsuccessfully  imitated,  by  Surrey  and  Wyat. 
Suckling,  deviating  notwithstanding  from  the  general 
practice,  though  with  questionable  merit,  gave  a  novel 
turn  to  familiar  feelings  :  and,  if  he  failed  to  gratify 
the   votaries  of  sensibility,  he  at  least  amused  the    ■ 
admirers  of  humor  and  ingenuity.     Perhaps  it  is  to  be    I 
suspected  that  he  was  not  innocent  of  designing  to   i 
ridicule  the  serious  productions  of  his  cotemporaries 


Queen  Elizabeth,  while  she  fettered  the  originality 
of  description,  by  expecting  adulatory  allusions  to 
herself,  nevertheless  encouraged  the  prevailing  predi- 
lection for  love  verses.  Harrington,  Sidney,  Raleigh, 
Spenser,  Daniel,  Drayton,  Shakspere,  Donne,  Jonson, 
assiduously  courted,  under  her  auspices,  the  smiles  of 
the  softer  muse.  Cowley,  in  a  succeeding  age.  affirms 
that  -poets  are  scarcely  thought  freemen  of  their 
company   without  paying  some  duties,   or   obliging 


INTRODUCTION. 


themselves  to  be  true  to  love.'  He  might  have  added, 
however,  that  it  was  not  every  freeman  who  was 
qualitied  to  take  up  his  livery. 


Neither  the  pedantry  of  James  the  first,  nor  the 
turbulence  experienced  under  his  unfortunate  succes- 
sor in  the  throne,  appear  to  have  silenced  the  strains 
dedicated  by  genius  to  beauty.  Drummond,  Carew, 
Waller,  Habington,  Lovelace,  Herrick,  and  Cowley, 
exhibit  the  progressive  improvement  of  this  species 
of  literary  homage,  and,  perhaps,  the  perfection  of  the 
style  in  which  it  should  be  conveyed. 

But  is  not  sufficient  merely  to  have  enumerated 
such  writers  as  Spenser.  Daniel,  Drummond,  Carew, 
Waller,  and  Habington. 

Among  these  poets  who  successively  advanced  the 
refinement  of  our  language,  and  ameliorated  our  taste, 
it  will  be  found  that  Daniel,  possessing  the  pathetic 
delicacy  of  Spenser,  anticipated  the  melodious 
simplicity  of  Drummond.  On  the  merits  of  Drum- 
mond, whose  sonnets  are  so  extensively  read,  and  so 
generally  admired,  it  were  superfluous  to  enlarge. 


INTRODUCTION. 


Nothing  is  more  capricious  than  the  customary- 
distribution  of  fame.  After  the  perusal  of  Spenser, 
Daniel,  and  Drummond,  by  whom  he  was  preceded, 
and  an  attentive  consideration  of  the  pretensions  of 
Carew  and  Habington,  with  whom  he  was  cotempo- 
rary,  who  can  avoid  expressing  some  surprise  at  the 
predominating  reputations  enjoyed  by  Waller?  —  a 
poet,  whatever  estimable  qualities  he  otherwise 
possessed,  who  must  be  pronounced  essentially  defi- 
cient in  the  chief  constituents  of  amatory  excellence; 
whose  compliments  were  often  hyperbolical  and 
unnatural,  whose  passion  was  destitute  of  tenderness, 
and  whose  wit  was  sometimes  disgraced  by  indelicacy. 
To  Carew,  however  censurable  for  moral  discrepan- 
cies, the  praise  of  unaffected  th  inking,  of  a  considerable 
portion  of  originality,  and  of  fascinating  numbers,  is 
not  to  be  denied.  Habington  is  among  the  last  of 
those  poets  in  whose  writings  pleasure  is  wholly 
divested  of  licentiousness,  and  where  the  imagination 
is  sublimed  by  the  heart. 


The  disoluteness   of  manners  introduced  by   the 
restoration   was   not   unproductive    of    concomitant 


INTRODUCTION. 


effects  on  the  minds  of  men  of  talent.  Under  the 
ruins  of  the  old  monarchy  seems  to  have  been  buried 
the  spirit  of  chivalric  feeling :  the  wits  of  the  court 
of  Charles  the  second  evince  neither  the  vigor  nor 
pathos  of  those  who  ornamented  a  former  reign ;  with 
few  exceptions  all  is  elegant  trifling,  or  disgusting 
voluptuousness.  It  is  an  immutable  truth,  nor  can  it 
be  too  often  reiterated,  that  whatever  contaminates  the 
morals  has  a  tendency  to  impoverish  the  mental 
resources. 


Partly  owing  to  the  prevalence  of  political  disqui- 
sition, and  partly  to  the  fluctuations  of  fashion,  the 
encouragement  before  extended  toward  amatory 
writing  seems  rapidly  to  have  declined  subsequently 
to  the  revolution.  It  is  not  only  that  such  publications 
as  the  '  Astrophel  and  Stella '  of  Sidney,  the  '  Castara' 
of  Habington,  or  the  '  Lucasta'  of  Lovelace,  no  longer 
diversify  the  annals  of  literature,  but  personal  attach- 
ment almost  ceased  to  inspire  the  impulse  of  poetic 
enthusiasm ;  our  principal  poets,  as  Pope  in  his 
'  Eloise,'  frequently  adopting  either  the  epistolary  or 
didactic  form,  for  the  expressing  of  amatory  emotion. 


INTRODUCTION. 


Without  derogation  from  the  applause  due  to 
intervening  poets,  it  is  principally  during  the  last  sixty- 
years,  but  particularly  in  the  present  age,  that  Love 
can  be  considered  as  having  regained,  with  augmented 
splendor,  her  empire  over  Poetry.  It  is  gratifying  to 
bear  this  honorable  testimony  to  existing  merit ;  and 
to  know,  at  the  same  time,  that  the  opinion  of  the 
individual  will  be  ratified  at  the  tribunal  of  the  public. 


LOVE     GIFT 


GEORGE  BOLEYX, 

A'ISCOLXr  EOCHFOBD. 
TO    HIS    LUTE. 

My  Lute,  awake  !  perform  the  last 
Labor  that  thou  and  I  shall  waste  ^ 
And  end  that  I  have  now  begun. 
And  when  this  song  is  sung  and  past, 
My  Lute  be  still :  for  I  have  done. 

As  to  be  heard  where  care  is  none, 
As  lead  to  grave  in  marble  stone : 
]\[y  song  may  pierce  her  heart  as  soon  : 
Should  we  then  sigh,  or  sing,  or  moan 
No,  no,  my  Lute  !  for  I  have  done. 

The  rocks  do  not  so  cruelly 
Repulse  the  waves  continually, 
As  she  my  suit  and  affection  ; 
So  that  I  am  past  remedy  : 
Whereby,  ray  Lute  and  I  have  done. 


16 


Proud  of  the  spoil  that  thou  hast  got, 
Of  simple  hearts,  through  Love's  shot, 
By  whom,  unkind,  thou  hast  them  won  : 
Think  not  he  hath  his  bow  forgot, 
Although  my  Lute  and  I  have  done. 

Vengeance  shall  fall  on  thy  disdain. 
That  mak'st  but  game  on  earnest  pain  ; 
Think  not  alone,  under  the  sun, 
L^nquit  to  cause  thy  Lover's  pain, 
Although  my  Lute  and  I  have  done. 

May  chanced  thee  lie  wither'd,  old, 
In  winter  nights  that  are  so  cold, 
Plaining  in  vain  unto  the  moon  : 
Thy  wishes  then  dare  not  be  told  : 
Care  then  who  list,  for  I  have  done ! 

And,  then,  may  chance  thee  to  repent 
The  time  that  thou  hast  lost  and  spent, 
To  cause  thy  Lover's  sigh  and  swoon ; 
Then,  shalt  thou  know  beauty  but  lent, 
And  wish  and  want  as  I  have  done. 

Now,  cease  my  Lute  !  this  is  my  last 
Labour  that  thou  and  I  shall  waste ; 
And  ended  is  that  we  begun  ; 
Now  is  this  song  both  sung  and  past; 
My  Lute,  be  still !  for  I  have  done. 


LOVEGIFT.  17 


SIR  THOMAS    WYAT. 


Your  looks  so  often  cast, 
Your  eyes  so  friendly  roll'd, 

Your  sight  fixed  so  fast, 
Ahvays  one  to  behold  5 

Though  hide  it  fain  ye  would, 
It  plainly  doth  declare, 

Who  hath  your  heart  in  hold, 
And  where  good-will  ye  bear. 

Fain  would  ye  find  a  cloke 
Your  burning  fire  to  hide, 

Yet  both  the  flame  and  smoke 
Breaks  out  on  every  side. 

Ye  cannot  Love  so  guide, 

That  it  no  issue  win  : 
Abroad  needs  must  it  glide, 

That  burns  so  hot  within. 


]My  heart  I  gave  thee  not  to  do  it  pain, 
But  to  preserve,  lo  !  it  to  thee  was  taken ; 
I  served  thee  not  that  I  should  be  forsaken, 
But  that  I  should  receive  reward  again  : 


18  ALOVEGIFT. 

I  was  content  thy  servant  to  remain, 
And  not  to  be  repaid  on  this  fiishion. 
Now,  since  in  thee  there  is  no  other  reason, 
Displease  thee  not  if  that  I  do  retrain, 
Unsatiate  of  my  woe  and  thy  desire  ; 
Assured  by  craft  for  to  excuse  thy  fault. 
But  since  it  pleaseth  thee  to  feign  default. 
Farewell,  I  say,  departing  from  the  fire. 
For  he  that  doth  believe  bearing  in  hand, 
Ploweth  in  the  water,  and  soweth  in  the  sand. 


Ik  amorous  faith,  or  if  an  heart  imfeign'd  : 
If  sweet  langour,  a  great  lovely  desire  ; 
If  honest  will,  kindled  in  gentle  fire  ; 
If  long  error  in  a  blind  maze  chain'd  ; 
If  in  my  visage  each  thought  distain'd  ; 
Or  if  my  sparkling  voice,  lower  or  higher, 
Which  fear  and  shame  so  woefully  doth  tire  ; 
If  pale  colour,  which  Love,  alas!  hath  stain'd 
If  to  have  other  than  myself  more  dear; 
If  wailing  or  sighing  continually, 
With  sorrowful  anger  feeding  busily; 
If  burned  far  off.  and  if  freezin?  near, — 
Are  cause  that  I  by  love  myself  destroy. 
Yours  is  the  fault,  and  mine  the  great  annoy. 


I,    O    \-    E        G   I    F   T  .  19 


HENRY  HOWARD, 


EAP.L  OF   SUP.EEV. 


A    PRAISE     OF    HIS    LOVE,    WHEREIN    HE    REPROVETH 
THEM  THAT  COMPARE  THEIR  LADIES  WITH  HIS. 

Give  place,  ye  lovers,  here  before, 

That  spent  your  bostes  and  bragges  in  vain  ; 

3Iy  ladies  bewty  passeth  more 

The  best  of  yours,  I  dare  well  sayen, 

Than  doth  the  sun  the  candle  li^ht, 

Or  brightest  day  the  darkest  night. 

And  thereto  hath  a  troth  as  just 
As  had  Penelope  the  faire ; 
For  what  she  sayth,  ye  may  it  trust 
As  by  it  writing  sealled  were  : 
And  virtues  hath  she  many  moe 
Than  I  with  pen  have  skill  to  showe, 

I  could  leherse,  if  that  I  would, 
The  whole  effect  of  Nature's  plaint, 
When  she  had  lost  the  perfite  mould, 
The  like  to  whom  she  could  not  paint; 
With  wringyng  hands  how  did  she  cry, 
And  what  she  said,  I  know  it,  I, 


20  A       L   O  V   E       G   I   F  T  . 

I  knowe  she  swore  with  raging  mimle, 
Her  kingdome  only  set  apart, 
There  was  no  losse,  by  law  of  kinde, 
That  could  have  gone  so  near  her  hart : 
And  this  was  chiefly  all  her  paine. 
She  could  not  make  the  like  againe. 

Sith  Nature  thus  gave  her  the  praise 
To  be  the  chiefest  worke  she  wrought; 
In  faith,  me  thinke,  some  better  wayes 
On  your  behalfe  might  well  be  sought, 
Than  to  compare  (as  you  have  done) 
To  matche  the  candle  with  the  sunne. 


DESCRIPTION     AND     PRAISE     OF     HIS     LOVE, 
GERALDINE. 

From  Tuscane  came  my  ladies  worthy  race; 
Faire  Florence  was  sometime  their  ancient  seate ; 
The  western  yle,  whose  plcsant  shore  doth  face 
Wild  Cambers  cliffs,  did  gyve  her  lively  heate  : 
Fostred  she  was  with  milke  of  Irish  brest ; 
Her  sire  an  erle  :  her  dame  of  princes  blood  : 
From  tender  yeres  in  Britain  she  doth  rest 
With  kinges  childe,  where  she  tasteth  costly  food. 
Hunsdon  did  first  present  her  to  mine  eyn  ; 
Bright  is  her  he  we,  and  Gerakline  she  hight : 
Hampton  me  taught  to  wish  her  first  for  mine : 
Windsor,  alas !  doth  chase  me  from  her  sight. 
Her  beauty  of  kind,  her  virtues  from  above  : 
Happy  is  he  that  can  obtaine  her  love ! 


21 


JOHN  HARPxIXGTOX, 

THE  ELDER. 

VERSES  MADE  ON  ISABELLA  MARKHaME.  WHEN  I 
FIRSTE  THOUGHT  HER  FAYER  AS  SHE  STOOD  AT 
THE  princess's  WINDOWE  IN  GOODLYE  ATTYRE, 
AND  TALKEDE   TO   DYVERS  IN   THE  COURTE-Y'ARD. 

Whence  comes  my  love.  0  hearte,  disclose! 
'Twas  from  cheeks  that  shame  the  rose; 
From  lips  that  spoyle  the  rubies  prayse ; 
From  eyes  that  mock  the  diamond's  blaze. 
"Whence  comes  my  woe,  as  freely  owne ; 
Ah,  me !  't  was  from  a  hearte  like  stone. 

The  blushyng  cheek  speakes  modest  mynde, 
The  lips  befitting  wordes  most  kynde ; 
The  eye  doth  tempte  to  love's  desyre, 
And  seems  to  say,  't  is  Cupid's  fire : 
Yet  all  so  faire  but  speake  my  moane, 
Syth  noughte  dothe  saye  the  hearte  of  stone. 

Why  thus,  my  love,  so  kindely  speake 

Sweet  eye,  sweet  l}Tppe.  sweet  blushyng  cheeke, 

Yet  not  a  hearte  to  save  my  paine  ? 

O  Venus  !  take  thy  giftes  again  ; 

Make  nought  so  faire  to  cause  our  moane. 

Or  make  a  hearte  that's  lyke  your  owne. 


LOVE       GIFT 


EDWARD  VERE, 


EARL  OK   OXKOI'.D. 


THE    BIRTH    OF    DESIRE. 


When  wert  thou  born,  Desire  ? 

'  In  pomp  and  pride  of  May.' 
By  whom,  sweet  boy,  wert  thou  begot  ? 

'  By  good  Conceit,  men  say.' 

Tell  me  who  was  thy  nurse  '? 

'  Fresh  Youth  in  sugared  joy.' 
What  was  thy  meat  and  daily  food  ? 

'  Sore  sighs  and  great  annoy.' 

AVhat  hadst  thou,  then,  to  drink  ? 

'  Unfeigned  lovers'  tears.' 
What  cradle  were  you  rocked  in? 

'  In  Hope  devoid  of  fears.' 

What  brought  you,  then,  asleep  ? 

'  Sweet  speech  that  men  liked  best.' 
And  where  is  now  your  dwelling  place  ? 

'  In  gentle  hearts  I  rest.' 

Doth  company  displease  ? 

'  It  doth  in  many  a  one.' 
Where  would  Desire,  then,  chuse  to  be  ? 

'  He  likes  to  be  alone.' 


LOVE       GIFT 


23 


What  foedeth  most  your  sight  ? 

'  To  gaze  on  favor  still.' 
AVho  find  you  most  to  be  your  foe  ? 

'  Disdain  of  ray  good  will.' 

Will  ever  age  or  death 

Bring  you  unto  decay  1 
'  No,  no ;  Desire  both  lives  and  dies 

Ten  thousand  times  a  day.' 


GEORGE    GASCOIGNE. 

A    STRANGE    PASSION    OF    A    LOA'ER. 

Amid  my  hale  I  bathe  in  blisse  j 

I  swimme  in  heaven,  I  sinke  in  hell  5 

I  find  amendes  for  every  misse, 

And  yet  my  mone  no  tongue  can  tell: 

I  live  and  love,  what  would  you  more  i 

As  never  lover  lived  bclbre. 

I  laugh  sometime  with  little  lust, 
So  jest  I  oft  and  feele  no  joy; 
Mine  ease  is  buildod  all  on  trust, 
And  yet  mistruste  breedes  mine  annoy: 

I  live  and  lacke,  I  lacke  and  have; 

I  have  and  misse  the  thing  I  crave. 


24  A       I.  O  V  E       G   1   F  T  . 

These  things  seerne  strangle,  yet  are  they  trew; 
Believe  me,  sweet,  my  stale  is  such : 
One  pleasure  which  I  would  eschew 
Both  slakes  my  greefe  and  biecdes  my  grutch : 
So  doth  one  paine,  whiche  I  would  shun, 
Renew  my  joyes  where  greefe  begun. 

Then,  like  the  larke  that  past  the  night 
In  heavy  sleepe,  with  cares  opprest ; 
Yet,  when  she  spies  the  pleasant  light, 
She  sends  sweete  notes  from  out  her  brest : 
So  sing  I  now,  because  I  thinke 
How  joyes  approach  when  sorrows  shrinke. 


And  as  faire  Philomene  againe 
Can  watch  and  sing  when  others  sleepe, 
And  taketh  pleasure  in  her  paine, 
To  wray  the  woe  that  mikes  her  w^eepe 
So  sing  I  now  for  to  bewray 
The  lothesome  life  I  leade  alway. 


The  which  to  thee  (deare  wench)  I  write. 
That  know'st  my  mirth,  but  not  my  mone : 
I  pray  God  grante  thee  deepe  delight, 
To  live  in  joys  when  I  am  gone. 

I  cannot  live,  it  will  not  bee; 

I  die  to  thinke  to  parte  with  thee. 


L   O   \'  E       GIFT 


THE    CONSTANCIE    OF    A    LOVER. 

That  selfe  same  tong^ue  -which  first  did  thee  intreate, 

To  lynk'e  thy  lyking  with  my  lucky  love; 

That  trusty  tongue  must  nowe  these  wordes  repeate, 

Hove  thee  stilly  my  fancy  cannot  move. 

That  dreadlesse  hart  which  durst  attempt  the  thought 

To  win  thy  will  with  mine  for  to  consent, 

Maintains  that  vow  which  love  in  me  first  wrought, 

Hove  thee  still,  and  never  shall  repent. 

That  happy  hand  which  hardily  did  touch 

Thy  tender  body  to  my  deepe  delight, 

Shall  serve  with  sword  to  prove  my  passion  such 

^s  loves  thee  still,  much  more  than  it  can  write. 

Thus  love  I  still  with  tongue,  hand,  hart,  and  all, 

And,  when  I  change,  let  vengeance  on  me  fall. 


HENRY  WILLOBY. 

The  flowring  hearbes,  the  pleasant  spring 
That  deckes  the  fieldes  with  vernal  hew, 
The  harmlesse  birdes  that  sweetly  sing, 
My  hidden  griefes  do  still  renew : 
The  joyes  that  others  long  to  see 
Is  it  that  most  tormentelh  me. 


26  A       L  O  V  E       G   I   F  T  . 

I  greatly  doubt,  though  March  be  past, 
Where  I  shall  see  that  wished  May, 
That  can  recure  that  balel'ull  blast, 
Whose  cold  despaire  wrought  my  decay: 
My  hopelesse  clouds  that  never  cleere, 
Presage  great  sorrows  very  neere. 

I  once  did  mirth  and  musicke  love. 
Which  both  as  now  I  greatly  hate  : 
What  uncouth  sprite  my  heart  doth  move 
To  loath  the  thing  I  loved  so  late  ? 
My  greatest  ease,  in  deepest  mone. 
Is  when  I  walke  mvselle  alone : 


Where,  thinking  on  my  hopelesse  hap. 

My  trickling  teares  like  rivers  flow; 

Yet  Fancy  lulls  me  in  her  lap, 

And  telles  me  lyfe  from  death  shall  grow : 
Thus  flattering  hope  makes  me  believe 
My  griefe  in  tyme  shall  feele  relieve. 


Good  fortune  helpes  the  venturing  wight 
That  hard  attempts  dares  undertake, 
But  they  that  shun  the  doubtful  fight, 
As  coward  drudges,  doth  forsake  : 

Come  what  there  will,  I  meane  to  try. 
For,  winne  or  lose,  I  can  but  dye. 


27 


FRANCIS     KINDLEMARSH,     OR     KYNWEL- 
3IERSH. 

A  VERTUOUS  GENTLEWOMAN  IN  PRAISE  OF  HER  LOVE. 

I  AM  a  virgin  faire  and  free,  and  freely  do  rejoyce  ; 
I  sweetly  warble  susrred  notes  from  silver  voice ; 
For  which  delightful  joyes  yet  thanke  I  courteous  love, 
By  whose  almightie  power  such  sweet  delights  I  prove. 

I  walke  in  pleasant  fieldes  adorned  with  lively  greene, 
I  view  the  fragrant  flowers  most  lovely  to  be  scene  ; 
The  purple  columbine,  the  cowslippe,  and  the  lillie, 
The  violet  sweete,  the  daisie,  and  yellow  daffodillie ; 

The  woodbine  in  the  edge,  the  red  rose  and  the  white, 
And  each  fine  flower  else  that  rendereth  sweet  delight ; 
Amongst  the  which  I  chuse  all  those  of  seemliest 

grace, 
In  thought  resembling  them  to  my  deare  lover's  face. 

His  lovely  face  I  mean,  whose  golden  flowring  giftes 
His  ever  living  fame  to  loftie  skye  upliftes  : 
Whom  loving  me  I  love  onley  for  vertue's  sake, 
Whom  vertuoufcly  to  love  all  onely  care  I  take. 

Of  all  which  fresh  faire  flowers,  that  flower  which 

doth  appeare 
In  mv  conceit  most  like  to  him  I  holde  so  deere, 
I  gather  it,  I  kisse  it,  and  eke  devise  with  it 
Such  kind  of  lovely  speech  as  is  for  lovers  fit. 


28  ALOVEGIFT. 

And  then  of  all  my  flowers  I  make  a  garland  fine, 
With  which   my  golden-wire   haires   together   I   do 

twine  ; 
And  set  it  on  my  head,  so  taking  that  delight 
That  I  would  take,  had  I  my  lover  still  in  sight. 

For  as  in  goodly  flowers  mine  eyes  great  pleasure  finde, 
So  are  my  lover's  gifts  most  pleasant  to  my  minde. 
Upon  which  vertuous  giftes  I  make  more  repast 
Than  they  that  for  love  sportes  the  sweetest  joyes  do 
taste. 


CHRISTOPHER  MARLOWE. 

THE  PASSIONATE  SHEPHERD  TO  HIS  LOVE. 

Come  live  with  me,  and  be  my  love, 
And  we  will  all  the  pleasures  prove, 
That  valleys,  groves,  and  hills,  and  fields, 
AVoods,  or  stecpy  mountains  yield. 

And  we  will  sit  upon  the  rocks, 
Seeing  the  shepherds  feed  their  flocks, 
By  shallow  rivers,  to  whose  falls 
Melodious  birds  sing  madrigals. 

And  I  will  make  thee  beds  of  roses. 
And  a  thousand  fragrant  posies  ; 
A  cap  of  flowers,  and  a  kirtle 
Embroidering  all  with  leaves  of  myrtle  : 


29 


A  gown  made  of  the  finest  wool, 
Which  from  our  pretty  lambs  we  pull ; 
Fair  lined  slippers  for  the  cold, 
With  buckles  of  the  purest  gold  : 

A  belt  of  straw  and  ivy  buds, 
With  coral  clasps  and  amber  studs  ;  — 
And  if  these  pleasures  may  thee  move, 
Come  live  with  me,  and  be  my  love. 

The  shepherd  swains  shall  dance  and  sing 
For  thy  delight,  each  May  morning: 
If  these  delights  thy  mind  may  move, 
Then  live  with  me,  and  be  my  love. 


SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH. 

THE  nymph's  reply  TO  THE  PASSIONATE  SHEPHERd's 
INVITATION. 

If  all  the  world  and  Love  were  young, 
And  truth  on  every  shepherd's  tongue. 
These  pretty  pleasures  might  me  move. 
To  live  with  thee  and  be  thy  love. 

Time  drives  the  flock  from  field  to  fold. 
When  rivers  rage  and  rocks  grow  cold ; 
And  Philomel  becometh  dumb. 
And  Age  complains  of  cares  to  come. 


30  A       T.  O  V   E       G   I   F  T  . 

The  flowers  do  fade,  and  wanton  fields 
To  wayward  winter  reckonins:  yields  ; 
A  honey  tongue,  a  heart  of  gall, 
Is  Fancy's  spring,  but  Sorrow's  fall. 

Thy  gowns,  thy  shoes,  thy  beds  of  roses, 
Thy  cap,  thy  kirtle,  and  thy  posies, 
Soon  break,  soon  wither,  soon  forgotten, 
In  folly  ripe  —  in  reason  rotten. 

Thy  belt  of  straw  and  ivy  buds, 
Thy  coral  clasps  and  amber  studs; 
All  these  in  me  no  means  can  move 
To  come  to  thee,  and  be  thy  love. 

But  could  youth  last,  and  love  still  breed  ; 
Had  joys  no  date,  nor  age  no  need  ; 
Then  these  delights  my  mind  might  move, 
To  live  with  thee  and  be  thy  love. 


THE    SILE.NT    LOVER. 

Passions  are  likened  best  to  floods  and  streames  ; 

The  shallow  murmur,  but  the  deepe  are  dumb. 
So,  when  affections  yield  discourse,  it  seems 

The  bottom  is  but  shallow  whence  they  come : 
They  that  are  rich  in  words  must  needs  discover. 
That  they  are  poor  in  that  which  makes  a  lover. 


A       LOVE       GIFT. 

Wion^  not.  sweet  mistresse  of  my  heart, 

The  merit  of  true  passion, 
With  thinking  that  he  feels  no  smart 

Who  sues  for  no  compassion  ! 

Since,  if  my  plaints  were  not  t'  approve 
The  conquest  of  thy  beautie, 

It  comes  not  from  defect  of  love, 
But  fear  to  exceed  my  dutie. 

For,  knowing  that  I  sue  to  sen'e 

A  sainte  of  such  perfection, 
As  all  desire  but  none  deserve 

A  place  in  her  affection, 

I  rather  choose  to  want  reliefs 
Than  venture  the  revealing: 

Where  glory  recommends  the  griefe, 
Despaire  disdains  the  healing ! 

Thus  those  desires  that  boil  so  high 

In  any  mortal  lover, 
WTien  reason  cannot  make  them  die, 

Discretion  them  must  cover. 

Yet  when  Discretion  doth  bereave 
The  plaintes  that  I  should  utter, 

Then  yciur  discretion  may  perceive 
That  Silence  is  a  suitor. 


31 


32  ALOVEGIFT. 

Silence  in  love  bewrays  more  woe 
Than  words,  though  ne'er  so  witty; 

A  beggar  that  is  dumb,  you  know, 
May  challenge  double  pity! 

Then  wrong  not,  dearest  to  my  heart ! 

]\Iy  love  for  secret  passion; 
He  smarteth  most  that  hides  his  smart, 

And  sues  for  no  compassion. 

HIS    LOVE    ADMITS    NO    RIVAL. 

Shall  I,  like  a  hermit,  dwell 
On  a  rock,  or  in  a  cell. 
Calling  home  the  smallest  part 
That  is  missing  of  my  heart, 
To  bestow  it  where  I  may 
Meet  a  rival  every  day  ? 
If  she  undervalue  me. 
What  care  I  how  fair  she  be  ? 

Were  her  tresses  angel  gold, 
If  a  stranger  may  be  bold, 
Unrebuked,  unafraid, 
To  convert  them  to  a  braid, 
And  with  little  more  ado, 
Work  them  into  bracelets  too ! 
If  the  mine  be  grown  so  free. 
What  care  I  how  rich  it  be  ? 


A        L    O   V   E        G    I    F   T  .  33 

Were  her  hand  as  rich  a  prize 
As  her  hairs  or  precious  eyes, 
If  she  lay  them  out  to  take 
Kisses,  for  good  manners'  sake  ; 
And  let  every  lover  skip, 
From  her  hand  unto  her  lip  ; 
If  she  seem  not  chaste  to  me, 
What  care  I  how  chaste  she  be  ^ 

No;  she  must  be  perfect  snow, 
In  effect  as  well  as  show; 
Warming  but  as  snow-balls  do, 
Not  like  fire,  by  burning  too  : 
But  when  she  by  change  has  got 
To  her  heart  a  second  lot ; 
Then,  if  others  share  with  me, 
Farewell  her,  whatever  she  be  ! 


What  thing  is  Love,  which  nought  can  countervail  ? 

Nought  save  itself,  even  such  a  thing  is  love. 
And  worldly  wealth  in  worth  as  far  doth  fail, 

As  lowest  earth  doth  yield  to  heaven  above. 
Divine  is  Love,  and  scorneth  worldly  pelf, 
And  can  be  bought  with  nothing  but  with  self. 


34 


EDMUND  SPENSER. 

THE    BRIDK. 

Lo  !  \VHEUE  she  comes  along  Avilh  portly  pace, 

Like  Pha^be  from  her  chamber  of  the  east, 

Arisinij  forth  to  run  her  mighty  race, 

Clad  all  in  white,  that  seems  a  virgin  best. 

So  well  it  her  beseems,  that  ye  would  ween 

Some  angel  she  had  been. 

Her  long,  loose  yellow  locks,  like  golden  wire. 

Sprinkled  with  pearl,  and  pearling  flowers  atween, 

Do  like  a  golden  mantle  her  attire; 

And  being  crowned  with  a  garland  green, 

Seem  like  some  maiden  queen. 

Her  modest  eyes,  abashed  to  behold 

So  many  gazers  as  on  her  do  stare. 

Upon  the  lowly  ground  affixed  are  ; 

Ne  dare  lift  up  her  countenance  too  bold, 

But  blush  to  hear  her  praises  sung  so  loud, 

So  far  from  being  proud. 

Natheless  do  ye  still  loud  her  praises  sing. 

That  all  the  woods  may  answer,  and  your  echo  rinj 

Tell  me,  ye  merchants'  daughters,  did  ye  see 
So  fair  a  creature  in  your  town  before  ? 
So  sweet,  so  lovely,  and  so  mild  as  she, 
Adorn'd  with  Beauty's  grace,  and  Virtue's  store? 


A        L    O   V   E        G    I    F   T  .  35 

Her  goodly  eyes  like  sapphires  shining  bright, 

Her  forehead  ivory  white; 

Iler  cheeks  hke  apples  which  the  sun  hath  rudded, 

Her  lips  like  cherries,  charming  men  to  bite, 

Her  breast  like  to  a  bowl  of  cream  uncrudded, 

Her  paps  like  lillies  budded, 

Her  snowy  neck  like  to  a  marble  tower; 

And  all  her  body  like  a  palace  fair, 

Ascending  up  with  many  a  stately  stair 

To  Honors  seat  and  Chastity's  sweet  bower. 

Why  stand  ye  still,  ye  virgins,  in  amaze, 

Upon  her  so  to  gaze, 

Whilst  ye  forget  your  former  lay  to  sing, 

To  which  the  woods  did  answer,  and  your  echo  ring. 

But  if  ye  saw  that  which  no  eyes  can  see, 

The  inward  beauty  of  her  lively  sprite. 

Garnished  with  heavenly  gifts  of  high  degree, 

]Much  more,  then,  would  ye  wonder  at  that  sight, 

And  stand  astonish'd,  like  to  those  which  read 

Medusa's  amazeful  head. 

There  dwells  sweet  Love  and  constant  Chastity. 

Unspotted  Faith,  and  comely  Womanhood, 

Regard  of  Honour,  and  mild  Modesty. 

There  Virtue  reigns  as  queen  in  royal  throne, 

And  giveth  laws  alone. 

The  which  the  base  affections  do  obey, 

And  yield  their  services  unto  her  will ; 

Ne  thought  of  things  uncomely  ever  may 

Thereto  approach,  to  tempt  her  mind  to  ill. 


36 


Had  ye  once  seen  these,  her  celestial  treasures, 

And  unrevealed  pleasures, 

Then  would  ye  wonder,  and  her  praises  sing, 

That  all  the  woods  should  answer,  and  your  echo  rini 

Open  the  temple  gates  unto  my  love  ; 

Open  them  wide,  that  she  may  enter  in  ; 

And  all  the  posts  adorn  as  doth  behove, 

And  all  the  pillars  deck  with  garlands  trim. 

For  to  receive  this  saint  with  honour  due. 

That  Cometh  in  to  you. 

With  trembling  steps,  and  humble  reverence, 

She  Cometh  in,  before  th'  Almighty's  view. 

Of  her,  ye  virgins,  learn  obedience, 

When  so  ye  come  into  those  holy  places 

To  humble  your  proud  faces. 

Bring  her  up  to  th'  high  altar,  that  she  may 

The  sacred  ceremonies  there  partake. 

The  which  do  endless  matrimony  make  : 

And  let  the  roaring  organs  loudly  play 

The  praises  of  the  Lord  in  lively  notes  : 

The  whilst;  with  hollow  throats, 

The  choristers  the  joyous  anthem  sing, 

That  all  the  woods  may  answer,  and  their  echo  ring 


Fayre  is  my  love,  when  her  fayre  golden  haires 
With  the  loose  wynd  ye  waving  chance  to  marke. 


A       L  O   V   E       G    T    F   T  .  37 

Fayre  when  the  rose  in  her  red  cheekes  appcares ; 
Or  in  her  eyes  the  fyre  of  love  does  sparkei 
Fayre^  when  her  breast,  like  a  rich  laden  barke, 
With  pretious  merchandize  she  forth  doth  lay  : 
Fayre,  when  that  cloud  of  pryde,  which  oft  doth  mark 
Her  goodly  light,  with  smiles  she  drives  away. 
But  fayrest  she,  when  so  she  doth  display 
The  gate  with  pearles  and  rubyes  richly  dight ; 
Through  which  her  words  so  wise  do  make  their  way 
To  bear  the  message  of  her  gentle  spright ; 
The  rest  be  works  of  nature's  wonderment, 
But  this  the  work  of  hart's  astonishment. 


Fresh  Spring,  the  herald  of  Love's  mighty  king, 

In  whose  coat-armour  richly  are  displayed 

All  sorts  of  flowers,  the  which  on  earth  do  spring, 

In  goodly  colours  gloriously  arrayed  ; 

Go  to  my  love,  where  she  is  careless  laid. 

In  winter's  bower  yet  not  well  awake  ; 

Tell  her  the  joyous  time  will  not  be  stay'd, 

Unless  she  do  him  by  the  forelock  take. 

Bid  her,  therefore,  herself  soon  ready  make, 

To  wait  on  Love  among  his  lovely  crew : 

"S^Tiere  every  one  that  misseth  then  her  make, 

Shall  be  by  him  amerced  with  penance  due. 

Make  haste  therefore,  sweet  love,  whilst  it  is  prime. 

For  none  can  call  again  the  passed  time. 


39  A       L  O  V  E       G  1   F  T  1 


SIR  PHILIP  SIDNEY. 


Faint  amorist!  what,  dost  thou  think 

To  (aste  love's  honey,  and  not  drink 

One  dram  of  gall  1  or  to  devour 

A  world  of  sweet,  and  taste  no  sour? 

Dost  thou  ever  think  to  enter 

Th'  Elysian  Fields,  that  darst  not  venture 

In  Charon's  barge  ?     A  lover's  mind 

]\Iust  use  to  sail  with  every  wind. 

He  that  loves,  and  fears  to  try, 
Learns  his  mistress  to  deny. 
Doth  she  chide  thee?  'tis  to  shew  it 
That  thy  coldness  makes  her  do  it. 
Is  she  silent  ?  is  she  mute  ? 
Silence  fully  grants  thy  suit. 
Doth  she  pout  and  leave  the  room? 
Then  she  goes  to  bid  thee  come. 

Is  she  sick  ?  why  then  be  sure, 

She  invites  thee  to  the  cure. 

Doth  she  cross  thy  suit  with  '  No  ?' 

Tush  !  she  loves  to  hear  the  woo. 

Doth  she  call  the  faith  of  men 

In  question  ?  nay,  she  loves  thee  then, 

And  if  e'er  she  makes  a  blot. 

She  's  lost  if  that  thou  hitfst  her  not. 


39 


He  that,  after  ten  denials, 
Dares  attempt  no  further  trials, 
Hath  no  warrant  to  acquire 
The  dainties  of  his  chaste  desire. 


O  KISS !  which  do'st  those  ruddy  gems  impart, 
Or  gems  or  fruits  of  new  found  Paradise, 

Breathing  all  bliss,  and  sweetness  to  the  heart: 
Teaching  dumb  lips  a  nobler  exercise : 

O  kiss!  which  souls,  ev'n  souls  together  ties. 
By  links  of  Love,  and  only  Nature''s  art: 

Now  fain  would  I  paint  thee  to  all  men's  eyes, 
Or  of  thy  gifts,  at  least,  shade  out  some  part ! 

But  she  forbids :  with  blushing  words,  she  says, 

She  builds  her  fame  on  higher-seated  praise- 
But  my  heart  burns,  I  cannot  silent  be  ! 

Then  since,  dear  Life !  you  fain  would  have  me 
peace; 

And  I,  mad  with  delight,  want  wit  to  cease ; 
Stop  you  my  mouth,  with  still,  still  kissing  me. 


40  ALOVEGIFT. 

SIR  FULK  GREVILLE, 

LORD  I! HOOK. 

I,  WITH  Avhose  colours  Myia  drest  her  head, 
I,  that  wore  posies  of  her  own  hand-making ; 
I,  that  mine  own  name  in  the  chimnies  read, 
By  Myra  finely  wrought  e'er  I  was  waking  ; 
Must  I  look  on  —  in  hope  time-coming  may, 
With  change,  bring  back  my  turn  again  to  play? 

I,  that  on  Sunday  at  the  church-style  found 
A  garland  sweet,  with  true-love  knots  in  flowers ; 
Which  I  to  wear  about  mine  arm  was  bound, 
That  each  of  us  might  know  that  all  was  our's  : 
Must  I  now  lead  an  idle  life  in  wishes, 
And  follow  Cupid  for  his  loaves  and  fishes  7 

I,  that  did  wear  the  ring  her  Mother  left ; 

I,  for  whose  love  she  gloried  to  be  blamed ; 

I,  with  whose  eyes  her  eyes  committed  theft  ; 

I,  who  did  make  her  blush  when  I  was  named ; 
Must  I  lose  ring,  flowers,  blush,  theft,  and  go  naked. 
Watching  with  sighs  till  dead  love  be  awaked  1 

I,  that  when  drowsy  Argus  fell  asleep, 

Like  Jealousy  o'erwatched  with  Desire, 

Was  even  warned  modesty  to  keep, 

While  her  breath,  speaking,  kindled  nature's  fire  ; 

Must  I  look  on  a-cold,  while  others  warm  them  ? 

Do  Vulcan's  brothers  in  such  fine  nets  arm  them? 


41 


Was  it  for  this,  that  I  might  Myra  see 

Washing  the  water  with  her  beauties  white  ? 

Yet  could  she  never  write  her  love  to  me  ! 

Thinks  wit  of  change,  while  thoughts  are  in  delight  ? 
JVIad  girls  may  safely  love,  as  they  may  leave  : 
No  man  can  print  a  kiss,  lines  may  deceive. 


TxOBERT  GREEN. 

FAIR    SAMELA. 

Like  to  Diana  in  her  summer  weed, 

Girt  with  a  crimson  robe  of  brightest  dye, 
Goes  fair  Samela. 

Whiter  than  be  flocks  that  straggling  feed, 
When  washed  by  Arethusa  faint  they  lie, 
Is  fair  Samela. 

As  fair  Aurora,  in  her  morning  ^ay, 

Decked  with  the  ruddy  glitter  of  her  love, 
Is  fair  Samela. 

Like  lovely  Thetis  on  a  calmed  day, 

When  as  her  briirhtness  Neptune's  fancies  move, 
Shines  fair  Samela, 
Her  tresses  gold,  her  eyes  like  glassy  streams. 


42  ALOVBGIFT 


NICHOLAS    BRETON. 

A     SOLEMN     CONCEIT. 

Doth  Lovft  live  in  Beauty's  eyesi 
Why;  then,  are  they  so  unloving  ? 
Patience  in  her  passion  proving 

There  his  sorrow  chiefly  lies. 

Lives  belief  in  lovers'  hearts^ 
"Why,  then,  are  they  unbelieving? 
Hourly  so  the  spirit  grieving 

"With  a  thousand  jealous  smarts. 

Is  there  pleasure  in  love's  passion? 
Why,  then,  is  it  so  unpleasing. 
Heart  and  spirit  both  diseasing, 

Where  the  wits  are  out  of  fashion  ? 

No  :  Love  sees  in  Beauty's  eyes 
He  hath  only  lost  his  seeing, 
Where,  in  Sorrow's  only  being 

All  his  comfort  wholly  dies: 

Fain  within  the  heart  of  love, 
Fearful  of  the  thing  it  hath, 
Treading  of  a  trembling  path, 

Doth  but  jealousy  approve. 


A       L   O  V   E       G   I   F  T  .  43 

In  Love's  passion,  then,  what  pleasure, 

Which  is  but  a  lunacy, 

Where  grief,  fear,  and  jealousy, 
Plague  the  senses  out  of  measure  ? 

Farewell,  then,  unkindly  fancy, 

In  thy  courses  all  too  cruel : 

Woe  the  price  of  such  a  jewel 
As  turns  reason  to  a  frenzy  ! 


GEORGE    CHAPMAN. 

love's  panegyrics. 

■Tis  nature's  second  sun. 
Causing  a  spring  of  virtues  where  he  shines. 
And  as  without  the  Sun,  the  world's  Great  Eye, 
All  colours,  beauties,  both  of  art  and  nature, 
Are  given  in  vain  to  man ;  so  without  Love, 
All  beauties  bred  in  women  are  in  vain, 
All  virtues  born  in  men  lie  buried  : 
For  love  informs  them  as  the  sun  doth  colours, 
And  as  the  Sun,  reflecting  his  warm  beams 
Against  the  earth,  begets  all  fruit  and  flowers, 
So  Love,  fair  shining  in  the  inward  man. 
Brings  forth  in  him  the  honorable  fruits 
Of  valour,  wit,  virtue,  and  haughty  thoughts, 
Brave  resolution,  and  divine  discourse. 


44  A       L   O  V  E       G  I   F  T 


SONG    OF    LOVE    AND    BEAtTTY. 

Bright  Panthcea  borne  to  Pan, 
Of  the  noblest  race  of  man, 

Her  while  hand  to  Eros  giving 
With  a  kiss,  join'd  heaven  to  earth, 
And  begot  so  fair  a  birth 

As  yet  never  grac'd  the  living : 
A  twin  that  all  worlds  did  adorn, 
For  so  were  Love  and  Beauty  born. 

Both  so  lov'd  they  did  contend 
"Which  the  other  should  transcend 

Doing  either  grace  and  kindness : 
Love  from  Beanly  did  remove 
Lightness,  calFd  her  stain  in  love, 

Beauty  took  from  love  his  blindness. 
Love  sparks  made  flames  in  Beauty's  eye. 
And  Beauty  blew  up  Love  as  high. 

Virtue  then  commixt  her  fire, 
To  which  Beauty  did  aspire; 

Innocence  a  crown  conferring; 
Mine  and  thine  were  then  unused, 
All  things  common,  nought  abused, 

Freely  earth  her  fruitage  bearing. 
Nought  then  was  car'd  for  that  could  fade- 
And  thus  the  golden  world  was  made. 


L   O  V   E       G   I   F   T  .  45 


THOMAS  WATSON. 


LOVE    UNREQUITED. 

When  3Iaye  is  in  his  prime,  and  the  youthful  spring 

Doth  cloathe  the  tree  with  leaves,  the  ground  with 
flowers, 
And  time  of  year  reviveth  ev'ry  thing, 

And  lovely  Nature  smiles,  and  nothing  lowers ; 
Then  Philomela  most  doth  strain  her  breast 
With  night  complaints,  and  sits  in  little  rest. 
This  bird's  estate  I  may  compare  with  mine. 

To  whom  fond  Love  doth  worke  such  wrongs  by 
day, 
That  in  the  night  my  heart  must  needs  repine, 

And  storm  with  sighs  to  ease  me  as  I  may; 
Whilst  others  are  becalmed,  or  lye  them  still, 
Or  sayle  secure  with  wind  and  tide  at  will. 
And  as  all  those  that  heare  this  bird  complaine, 

Conceive  in  all  her  tunes  a  sweet  delight. 
Without  remorse  or  pitying  her  paine; 

So  she  for  whom  I  waite  both  daye  and  night, 
Doth  sport  herself  in  hearing  my  complaint : 
A  just  reward  for  serving  such  a  saint. 


LOVE       GIFT 


THOMAS  LODGE. 
Rosalind's  madrigal. 

LovK  in  my  bosom,  like  a  bee, 

Doth  suck  his  sweet ; 
Now  with  his  wings  he  plays  with  me, 

Now  with  his  feet. 
"VVithine  mine  eyes  he  makes  his  nest, 
His  bed  amidst  my  tender  breast; 
My  kisses  are  his  daily  feast. 
And  yet  he  robs  me  of  my  rest,  — 

Ah  !  wanton,  will  ye  ! 

And  if  I  sleep,  then  pierceth  he 

With  pretty  slight, 
And  makes  his  pillow  of  my  knee 

The  live-long  night. 
Strike  I  my  lute,  he  tunes  the  string; 
He  music  plays  if  I  but  sing; 
He  lends  me  every  lovely  thing: 
Yet,  cruel  he,  my  heart  doth  sting; 

Ah,  wanton!  —  will  ye  ! 

Else  I  with  roses  every  day 

Will  whip  ye  hence. 
And  bind  ye  when  ye  long  to  play, 

For  your  offence. 


A        L    O    V   E        G    I    F   T  .  47 

I'll  shut  my  eyes  to  keep  ye  in ; 
I  "11  make  you  fast  it  for  your  sin ; 
I'll  count  your  power  not  worth  a  pin  :  — 
Alas !  what  hereby  shall  I  win 
If  he  gainsay  me  ? 

What  if  I  beat  the  wanton  boy 

With  many  a  rod  ? 
He  will  repay  me  with  annoy, 

Because  a  god. 
Then  sit  thou  safely  on  my  knee, 
And  let  thy  bower  my  bosom  be ; 
Lurk  in  mine  eyes,  I  like  of  thee, 
O  Cupid  !  so  thou  pity  me, — 

Spare  not,  but  play  thee. 


SAMUEL  DAXIEL. 


Now  EACH  creature  joys  the  other, 
Passing  happy  days  and  hours  5 

One  bird  reports  unto  another, 
In  the  fall  of  silver  showers; 

"Whilst  the  earth,  our  common  mother, 
Hath  her  bosom  deck'd  with  tlowers. 

Whilst  the  £:reatest  torch  of  heaven 
With  bright  rays  warms  Flora's  lap. 


48  ALOVEGIFT. 

flaking  nights  and  days  both  even, 
Cheering  plants  with  fresher  sap  ; 

My  field  of  flowers,  quite  bereaven. 
Wants  refresh  of  better  hap. 

Echo,  daughter  of  the  air, 

Babbling  guest  of  rocks  and  hills, 

Knows  the  name  of  my  fierce  fair, 
And  sounds  the  accents  of  my  ills : 

Each  thing  pities  my  despair. 
Whilst  that  she  her  lover  kills. 

Whilst  that  she,  O  cruel  maid! 

Doth  me  and  my  love  despise. 
My  life's  flourish  is  decay'd 

That  depended  on  her  eyes : 
But  her  will  must  be  obey'd. 

And  well  he  ends  for  love  who  dies. 


Love  is  a  sickness  full  of  woes. 

All  remedies  refusing; 
A  plant  that  with  most  cutting  grows; 
Most  barren  with  best  using : 
Why  so  ? 
INIore  we  enjoy  it,  more  it  dies  ; 
If  not  enjoy'd,  it  sighing  cries, 
Hey,  oh ! 


A       L   O   V   E       Cf   I   F  T  .  49 

Love  is  a  torment  of  the  mind, 

A  tempest  everlasting; 
And  Jove  hath  made  it  of  a  kind 
Not  well,  nor  full  nor  fasting: 
Why  so  ? 
More  we  enjoy  it,  more  it  dies ; 
If  not  enjoy"d,  it  sighing  cries, 
Hey,  ho ! 


MICHAEL  DRAYTON. 


Calm  winds,  blow  you  fair; 
Rock  her,  thou  sweet  gentle  air: 
Oh  !  the  morn  is  noon, 
The  evening  comes  too  soon 

To  part  my  love  and  me  ! 
The  roses  and  thy  lips  do  meet, 
Oh  !  that  life  were  half  so  sweet ! 
Who  would  respect  his  breath 
That  might  die  such  a  death  1 

All  the  bushes  that  be  near 
With  sweet  nightingales  beset, 

Hush,  sweet,  and  be  still, 

Let  them  sing  their  fill, 
There's  none  our  joys  to  let. 


50  ALOVEGIFT. 


Love,  banish'd  Heaven,  on  earth  was  held  in  scorn 

Wand'ring  abroad  in  need  and  beggary ; 

And  wanting  friends,  though  of  a  goddess  born, 

Yet  crav'd  the  alms  of  such  as  passed  by : 

I,  like  a  man  devout  and  charitable, 

Clothed  the  naked,  lodg'd  this  wand'ring  Guest ; 

With  sighs  and  tears  still  furnishing  his  table. 

With  what  might  make  the  miserable  blest. 

But  this  Ungrateful,  for  my  good  desert, 

Intic'd  my  thoughts  against  me  to  conspire, 

Who  gave  consent  to  steal  away  my  heart; 

And  set  my  breast,  his  lodging,  on  a  fire. 

Well,  well  my  friends !  when  beggars  grow  thus  bold 

No  marvel,  then,  though  charity  grow  cold ! 


Since  there  's  no  help,  come,  let  us  kiss  and  part! 
Nay,  I  have  done ;  you  get  no  more  of  me  : 
And  I  am  glad,  yea  glad  with  all  my  heart. 
That  thus  so  cleanly  I  myself  can  free. 
Shake  hands  for  ever:  cancel  all  our  vows  ; 
And,  when  we  meet  at  any  time  again, 
Be  it  not  seen,  in  either  of  our  brows, 


51 


That  we  one  jot  of  former  love  retain  ! 
Now,  at  the  last  gasp  of  Love's  latest  breath, 
"When,  his  pulse  failing.  Passion  speechless  lies : 
When  Faith  is  kneeling  by  his  bed  of  death ; 
And  Innocence  is  closing  up  her  eyes  : 

Now,  if  thou  wouldst,  when  all  have  given  him 
over, 

From  death  to  life,  thou  might'st  him  yd  recover! 


WILLIAM  SHAKSPERE. 


Bid  me  discourse,  I  will  enchant  thine  ear, 
Or,  like  a  fairy  trip  upon  the  green, 
Or,  like  a  nymph,  with  long  dishevelPd  hair, 
Dance  on  the  sand,  and  yet  no  footing  seen : 
Love  is  a  spirit  all  compact  of  fire, 
Not  gross  to  sink,  but  light,  and  will  aspire. 

Witness  this  primrose  bank  whereon  I  lie ; 

These  forceless  flowers  like  sturdy  trees  support  me ; 

Two  strengthless  doves  will  draw  me  through  the  sky, 

From  morn  to  night,  even  where  I  list  to  sport  me : 
Is  love  so  light,  sweet  boy,  and  may  it  be 
That  thou  should'st  think  it  heavy  unto  thee  ? 


LOVE       GIFT 


CANZONET. 


On  a  (lay  (alack  the  day  !) 
LovCj  whose  month  is  ever  May, 
Spieil  a  blossom,  passing  fair, 
Playing  in  the  wanton  air : 
Through  the  velvet  leaves,  the  wind, 
All  unseen,  'gan  passage  find  ; 
That  the  lover,  sick  to  death, 
"Wished  himself  the  heaven's-breath. 
Air,  quoth  he,    thy  cheeks  may  blow 
Air,  would  I  might  triumph  so! 
But,  alack,  my  hand  is  sworn, 
Ne'er  to  pluck  thee  from  thy  thorn : 
A'^ow,  alack,  for  youth  unmeet; 
Youth,  so  apt  to  pluck  a  sweet. 
Do  not  call  it  sin  in  me, 
That  I  am  forsworn  to  thee ; 
Thou  for  whom  Jove  would  swear, 
Juno  but  an  Ethiop  were  ; 
And  deny  himself  for  Jove, 
Turning  mortal  for  thy  love. 


Let  me  not  to  the  marriage  of  true  minds 
Admit  impediments.     Love  is  not  love 
Which  alters  when  it  alteration  finds, 
Or  bends,  with  the  remover  to  remove: 


A        T.    O    V    E        GIFT.  53 

O  no !     It  is  an  ever  fixed  mark, 

That  looks  on  tempests,  and  is  never  shaken  -, 

It  is  the  star  to  ever\-  wandering  bark, 

Whose  worth's  unknown,  although  his  height  be  taken. 

Love's  not  Time's  fool,  though  rosy  lips  and  cheeks 

Within  his  bending  sickle's  compass  come; 

Love  alters  not  with  his  brief  hours  and  weeks, 

But  bears  it  out,  e'en  to  the  edge  of  doom. 

If  this  be  error,  and  upon  me  proved, 

I  never  writ,  and  no  man  ever  lov'd. 


From  you  have  I  been  absent  in  the  spring, 

Vvlien  proud  pied  April,  dress'd  in  all  his  trim. 

Had  put  a  spirit  of  youth  in  every  thing. 

That  heavy  Saturn  laugh'd  and  leap'd  with  him. 

Yet,  nor  the  lays  of  birds,  nor  the  sweet  smell 

Of  different  flowers  in  odour  and  in  hue, 

Could  make  me  any  summer-story  tell, 

Or  from  their  proud  lap  pluck  them  where  they  grew. 

Nor  did  I  wonder  at  the  lilies  white. 

Nor  praise  the  deep  vermilion  in  the  rose: 

They  were  but  sweet,  but  figures  of  delight, 

Drawn  after  you,  you  pattern  of  all  those. 

Yet  seem'd  in  winter  still,  and  you  away. 

As  with  your  shadow  I  with  these  did  play. 


54  ALOVEGIFT, 

The  forward  violet  thus  did  I  chide  :  — 
Sweet  thief,  whence  did  thou  steal  thy  sweetest  smells, 
If  not  from  my  love's  hreath  ?     The  purple  pride 
Which  on  thy  soft  cheek  for  complexion  dwells, 
In  my  love"s  veins  thou  hast  too  grossly  dyed. 
The  lily  I  condemned  for  thy  hand. 
And  buds  of  marjoram  had  stol'n  thy  hair: 
The  roses  fearfully  on  thorns  did  stand, 
One  blushing  shame,  another  white  despair; 
A  third,  not  red  nor  white,  had  stol'n  from  both, 
And  to  his  robbery  had  annex'd  thy  breath  ; 
But  for  his  theft,  in  pride  of  all  his  growth, 
A  vengeful  canker  eat  him  up  to  death. 
More  flowers  I  noted,  yet  I  none  could  see 
But  sweet  or  colour  it  had  stolen  from  thee. 


THOMAS  MIDDLETON. 

He  that  truly  loves, 
Burns  out  the  day  in  idle  fantasies ; 
And  when  the  lamb,  bleating,  doth  bid  good  night 
Unto  the  closing  day,  then  tears  begin 
To  keep  quick  time  unto  the  owl,  whose  voice 
Shrieks  like  the  bell-man  in  the  lover's  ear. 
Love"s  eye  the  jewel  of  sleep,  oh,  seldom  wears  ; 
The  early  lark  is  waken'd  from  her  bed. 
Being  only  by  love's  pains  disquieted  ; 


But,  singing  in  the  morning's  car,  she  weeps, 
Being  deep  in  love,  at  lovers'  broken  sleeps ; 
But  say,  a  golden  slumber  chance  to  tie. 
With  silken  strings,  the  cover  of  love's  eye, 
Then  dreams,  magician-like,  mocking  present 
Pleasures,  whose  fading,  leaves  more  discontent. 


JOHN  MARSTON. 

LOVE    EIEEXAL. 

If  love  be  holy,  if  that  mystery 
Of  co-united  hearts  be  sacrament ; 
If  the  unbounded  Goodness  hath  infus'd 
A  sacred  ardour  of  a  mutual  love 
Into  our  species:  if  those  amorous  joys, 
Those  sweets  of  life,  those  comforts  even  in  death, 
Spring  from  a  cause  above  our  reason's  reach  ^ 
If  that  clear  flame  deduce  its  heat  from  Heaven, 
'Tis,  like  its  cause,  eternal;  always  one. 
As  is  the  instiller  of  divinest  love, 
Unchang'd  by  time,  immortal,  maugre  death. 


56  ALOVEGIFT. 


HENRY  CONSTABLE. 

SONG    TO    DIAPIIENIA. 

Diaphen's  like  the  clafTy-down-dilly, 
White  as  the  sun,  fair  as  the  lily, 

Heigho!  how  I  do  love  thee! 
I  do  love  thee  as  my  lambs 
Are  beloved  of  their  dams  ; 

How  blest  were  I  if  thou  would'st  prove  me ! 

Diaphenia,  like  the  spreading  roses, 
That  in  thy  sweets  all  sweets  encloses, 

Fair  sweet  how  I  do  love  thee ! 
I  do  love  thee  as  each  flower 
Loves  the  sun's  life-giving  power  : 

For  dead,  thy  breath  to  life  might  move  me ! 

Diaphenia.  like  to  all  things  bless'd 
"When  all  thy  praises  are  expressed, 

Dear  joy,  how  I  do  love  thee! 
As  the  birds  do  love  the  spring, 
Or  the  bees  their  careful  king:  — 

Then  in  requite,  sweet  virgin,  love  me! 


L   O  V   E       G   I   F   T  .  57 


SIR  HENRY  WOTTON. 

ON    HIS    IMISTRESS,    THE    QUEEN     OF    BOHE>IIA, 

You  meaner  beauties  of  the  night, 

That  poorly  satisfy  our  eyes 
More  by  your  number  than  your  light ! 

You  common  people  of  the  skies ! 

What  are  you  when  the  sun  shall  rise  ? 


You  curious  chanters  of  the  wood, 
That  warble  forth  dame  Nature's  lays, 

Thinking  your  voices  understood 

By  your  weak  accents !  what 's  your  praise 
"When  Philomel  her  voice  shall  raise  ? 

You  violets  that  first  appear, 

By  your  pure  purple  mantles  known, 

Like  the  proud  virgins  of  the  year, 
As  if  the  spring  were  all  your  own  ! 
What  are  you  when  the  rose  is  blown  ? 

So,  when  my  mistress  shall  be  seen 
In  form  and  beauty  of  her  mind; 

By  virtue  first,  then  choice,  a  queen ! 
Tell  me  if  she  were  not  design'd 
Th'  eclipse  and  glory  of  her  kind  1 


5S  A       L   O  V  E       C;   I   F  T 


THOMAS  CAMPION. 

OF    HIS    mistress'    FACE. 

And  would  you  see  my  mistress'  face  ? 
It  is  a  flo\v"iy  garden  place, 
Where  knots  of  beauty  have  such  grace, 
That  all  is  work,  and  no  where  space. 

It  is  a  sweet  delicious  morn, 
Where  day  is  breeding,  never  born; 
It  is  a  meadow  yet  unshorn. 
Which  thousand  flowers  do  adorn. 

It  is  the  heaven's  bright  reflex, 

Weak  to  dazzle  and  to  vex  ; 

It  is  the  Idtea  of  her  sex, 

Envy  of  whom  doth  world  perplex. 

It  is  a  face  of  death  that  smiles, 
Pleasing  though  it  kills  the  whiles; 
Where  Death  and  Love,  in  pretty  wiles, 
Each  other  mutually  beguiles, 

It  is  fair  Beauty's  freshest  youth: 

It  is  the  feignVl  Elisium's  truth  ; 

The  spring  that  wintered  hearts  renew'th, 

And  this  is  that  my  soul  pursu'th. 


ALOVEGIFT.  59 

SIR  ROBERT  AYTON. 

THE    FLIRT, 

I  DO  confess  thou  'rt  smooth  and  fair, 
And  I  might  have  gone  near  to  love  thee, 

Had  I  not  found  the  slightest  prayer 

That  lip  could  move  had  power  to  move  thee ; 

But  I  can  let  thee  now  alone 

As  worthy  to  be  loved  by  none. 

I  do  confess  thou  'rt  sweet ;  yet  find 
Thee  such  an  unthrift  of  thy  sweets, 

Thy  favours  are  but  like  the  wind, 
Which  kisseth  every  thing  it  meets ; 

And  since  thou  can'st  with  more  than  one, 

Thou  'rt  worthy  to  be  lov'd  by  none. 

The  morning  rose,  that  untouched  stands, 
Arm'd  with  her  briars,  how  sweetly  swells  ! 

But  pluck'd  and  strain'd.  through  ruder  hands, 
Her  sweet  no  longer  with  her  dwells. 

But  scent  and  beauty  both  are  gone. 

And  leaves  fall  from  her,  one  by  one. 

Such  fate  e"er  long,  will  the  betide. 
When  thou  hast  handled  been  awhile ; 

Like  sear-flowers  to  be  thrown  aside. 
And  I  will  sigh  when  some  will  smile; 

To  see  thy  love  for  more  than  one, 

Hath  brought  thee  to  be  loved  by  none.' 


GO  ALOVEGIFT. 


WILLIAM  SMITH. 


Thy  beauty  subject  of  my  son^  I  make, 

0  fairest  fair,  on  whom  depends  my  life ! 

Refuse  not  then  the  task  I  undertake 

To  please  thy  rage,  and  to  appease  my  strife ; 

But  with  one  smile  remunerate  my  toil; 

None  other  guerdon  I  of  thee  desire  ; 

Give  not  my  lowly  muse,  new-hatch'd  the  foil, 

But  warmth,  that  she  may  at  the  length  aspire 

Unto  the  temples  of  thy  star-bright  eyes, 

Upon  whose  round  orbs  perfect  beauty  sits ; 

From  whence  such  glorious  crystal  beams  arise, 

As  best  my  Chloris'  seemly  face  befits  : 

Which  eyes,  which  beauty,  whichbright  crystal  beam. 

Which  face  of  thine,  hath  made  my  love  extreme. 


BEN  JONSON. 


O  DO  not  wanton  with  those  eyes, 

Lest  I  be  sick  with  seeing! 
Nor  cast  them  down ;  but  let  them  rise, 

Lest  shame  destroy  their  being. 


ALOVEGJFT.  Gl 

O  be  not  angry  with  those  fires, 
For  then  their  threats  will  kill  nne! 

Nor  look  too  kind  on  my  desires, 
For  then  my  hopes  will  spill  me. 

O  do  not  steep  them  in  thy  tears, 

For  so  will  sorrow  slay  me  : 
Nor  spread  them,  as  distract  with  fears ; 

IMine  own  enough  betray  me  ! 


THE    SWEET    NEGLECT. 

Still  to  be  neat,  still  to  be  drest, 

As  you  were  going  to  a  feast ; 

Still  to  be  powdered,  still  perfum'd ; 

Lady  it  is  to  be  presum'd  — 

Though  art's  hid  causes  are  not  found  — 

All  is  not  sweet,  all  is  not  sound ! 

Give  me  a  look,  give  me  a  face, 

That  makes  simplicity  a  grace; 

Robes  loosely  flowing,  hair  as  free  ! 

Such  sweet  neglect  more  taketh  me, 

Than  all  the  adulteries  of  art ; 

That  strike  mine  eyes  but  not  my  heart. 


62  A       T.   O  V   E       G   I   F  T 


For  love's  sake,  kiss  me  once  again ! 
I  long,  and  should  not  beg  in  vain : 

Here's  none  to  spy,  or  see ; 
Why  do  you  doubt,  or  stay  ? 

I'll  taste  as  lightly  as  the  Bee, 
That  doth  but  touch  his  flower,  and  flies  away. 

Once  more,  and  (faith)   I  will  be  gone; 
Can  he  that  loves,  ask  less  than  one  1 

Nay  you  may  err  in  this, 

And  all  your  bounty  wrong: 

This  could  be  call'd  but  half  a  kiss. 
What  we  "re  but  once  to  do,  we  should  do  long. 

I  will  but  mend  the  last ;  and  tell 
Where,  how  it  would  have  relish'd  well ; 

Join  lip  to  lip  and  try 

Each  to  suck  other's  breath ; 

And,  whilst  our  tongues  perplexed  lie, 
Let  who  will  think  us  dead,  or  wish  our  death  ! 


MADKIGAL, 

Do  BUT  look  on  her  eyes,  they  do  light 
All  that  Love's  world  compriseth ; 

Do  but  look  on  her  hair,  it  is  bright 
As  Love's  star  when  it  riselh  ; 


A        L   O   V   E        G    I    F   T  .  03 

Do  but  mark  her  forehead,  smoother 

Than  words  that  soothe  her ! 

And  from  her  arch'd  brow  such  a  grace 

Sheds  itself  through  the  face, 

As  alone  there  triumphs  to  the  life, 

All  the  gain,  all  the  good,  of  the  elements'  strife. 

Have  you  seen  but  a  bright  lily  grow 

Before  rude  hands  have  touch'd  it  ? 
Have  you  mark'd  but  the  fall  of  the  snow, 

Before  the  soil  hath  smutched  it  ? 
Have  you  felt  the  wool  of  the  beaver  1 
Or  the  swan's  down,  ever  / 
Or  have  smelt  'o  the  bud  o'  the  briar  1 
Or  the  nard  i'  the  fire  ? 
Or  have  tasted  the  bag  of  the  bee, 
Oh  !  so  white  !  oh  !  so  soft !  oh  !  so  sweet  is  she  ! 


TO    CELIA, 

Drtxk  to  me  only  with  thine  eyes, 

And  I  will  pledge  with  mine ! 
Or  leave  a  kisse  but  in  the  cup. 

And  I  "le  not  looke  for  wine. 
The  thirst  that  from  the  soule  doth  rise, 

Doth  aske  a  drinke  divine  : 
But  might  I  of  Jove's  nectar  sup, 

I  would  not  change  for  thine. 


64  ALOVEGIFT. 

I  sent  thee,  late,  a  rosie  wreath, 

Not  so  much  honouring  thee, 
As  giving  it  a  hope  that  there 

It  could  not  withered  bee. 
But  thou  thereon  did'st  only  breath, 

And  senfst  it  backe  to  mee : 
Since  when  it  growes,  and  smells,  I  sweare, 

Not  of  itselfe,  but  thee. 


THOMAS  CARKW. 


Ask  me  no  more  —  where  Jove  bestow; 
When  June  is  past,  the  fading  rose  1 
For  in  your  beauties'  orient  deep. 
These  flowers,  as  in  their  causes,  sleep. 

Ask  me  no  more  —  whither  do  stray 
The  golden  atoms  of  the  Day; 
For,  in  pure  love,  Heaven  did  prepare 
Those  powders  to  enrich  your  hair. 

Ask  me  no  more  —  whither  doth  haste 
The  Nightingale,  when  May  is  past ; 
For  in  your  sweet-dividing  throat 
She  winters,  and  keeps  warm  her  note. 


A       L   O  V   E       G   I   F  T  .  Go 

Ask  me  no  more  —  where  those  Stars  light, 
That  downwards  fall  in  dead  of  night ; 
For  in  your  eyes  they  sit,  and  there 
Fixed  become,  as  in  their  sphere. 

Ask  me  no  more  —  if  east  or  west, 
The  FhcEnix  builds  her  spicy  nest; 
For  unto  you,  at  last,  she  flies, 
And  in  your  fragrant  bosom  dies ! 


TO    CELIA. 

No  MORE  shall  meads  be  deck\l  with  flowers. 
Nor  sweetness  dwell  in  rosy  bowers, 
Nor  greenest  buds  on  branches  spring, 
Nor  warbling  birds  delight  to  sing, 
Nor  April  Violets  paint  the  grove; 
If  I  forsake  my  Celiacs  love  ! 

The  fish  shall  in  the  ocean  burn : 
And  fountains  sweet  shall  bitter  turn; 
The  humble  oak  no  flood  shall  know. 
When  floods  shall  highest  hills  overflow  ; 
Black  Lethe  shall  oblivion  leave ; 
If  e'er  my  Celia  1  deceive  ! 

Love  shall  his  bow  and  shafts  lay  by, 
And  Venus'  Doves  want  wings  to  fly ; 
The  sun  refuse  to  shew  his  light; 
And  day  shall  then  be  turn'd  to  night, 


66  A       L   O  ^'   E       G   I   F  T  . 

And  in  that  night  no  star  appear; 
If  once  I  leave  my  Celia  dear. 

Love  shall  no  more  inhabit  earth. 
Nor  lovers  more  shall  love  for  worth ; 
Nor  joy  above  in  heaven  dwell, 
Nor  pain  torment  poor  souls  in  hell  ; 
Grim  death  no  more  shall  horrid  prove, 
K  e'er  I  leave  bright  Celia's  love. 


DISDAI?i    KETURNED. 

He  that  loves  a  rosie  cheek, 

Or  a  coral  lip  admires. 
Or  from  star-like  eyes  doth  seek 

Fuel  to  maintain  his  fires; 
As  old  Time  makes  these  decay, 
So  his  flames  must  waste  away. 

But  a  smooth  and  stedfast  mind, 
Gentle  thoughts  and  calm  desires. 

Hearts  with  equal  love  combin'd 
Kindle  never-dying  fires. 

Where  these  are  not,  I  despise 

Lovely  cheeks,  or  lips  or  eyes. 

No  teai-s,  Celia,  now  shall  win 
My  resolv'd  heart  to  return  ; 

I  have  search'd  thy  soul  within, 

And  find  nought  but  pride  and  scorn; 


ALOVEGIFT.  67 

I  have  learnM  thy  arts,  and  now 
Can  disdain  as  much  as  thou. 
Some  Pow'r  in  my  revenge,  convey 
That  love  to  her  I  cast  away. 


BEAOIONT  AND  FLETCHER. 


Now  THE  lusty  spring  is  seen; 

Golden  yellow,  gaudy  blue, 

Daintily  invite  the  view, 
Every  where,  on  every  green. 
Roses  blushing  as  they  blow, 

And  enticing  men  to  pull; 
Lilies  whiter  than  the  snow, 

Woodbines  of  sweet  honey  full : 
All  love's  emblems,  and  all  cry, 
'  Ladies,  if  not  pluck'd,  we  die.' 

Yet,  the  lusty  spring  hath  staid ; 

Blushing  red,  and  purest  white, 

Daintily  to  love  invite 
Every  woman,  every  maid. 
Cherries  kissing  as  they  grow, 

And  inviting  men  to  taste ; 
Apples  even  ripe  below, 

Winding  gently  to  the  waist : 
All  love's  emblems,  and  all  cry, 
'  Ladies,  if  not  pluck'd,  we  die.' 


G8  A       L  O  V   E       G   1   K  T 


Can  you  love  for  love,  and  make  that  the  reward? 
The  old  man  shall  not  love  his  heaps  of  gold 
With  a  more  doting  superstition, 
Than  I'll  love  you  ;  the  young  man,  his  delights  ; 
The  merchant,  when  he  ploughs  the  angry  sea  up, 
And  sees  the  mountain-billows  falling  on  him, 
As  if  all  elements,  and  all  their  angers. 
Were  turn'd  into  one  vow'd  destruction, 
Shall  not  with  greater  joy  embrace  his  safety. 
We  '11  live  together  like  two  wanton  vines. 
Circling  our  souls  and  loves  in  one  another ; 
We  '11  spring  together,  and  we  '11  bear  one  fruit ; 
One  joy  shall  make  us  smile,  and  one  grief  mourn, 
One  age  go  with  us,  and  one  hour  of  death 
Shall  close  our  eyes,  and  one  grave  make  us  happy. 


Wherefore  sits 
My  Pha-be  shadow'd  in  a  sable  cloud  ! 
Those  pearly  drops  which  thou  lett'st  fall  like  beads, 
Numbering  on  them  thy  vestal  orisons, 
Alas !  are  spent  in  vain  ;  I  love  thee  still. 
In  midst  of  all  these  showers  thou  sweetlier  scent'st, 
Like  a  green  meadow  on  an  April  day, 
In  which  the  sun  and  west  wind  play  together, 
Striving  to  catch  and  dridk  its  pearly  drops. 


L   O   V  E       G   I   F   T  .  69 


WILLIAM   HERBERT, 

EAUL  OF   I'EMBROKE, 
LOVE    IN    THE    COUNTRY. 

Dear,  leave  thy  home  and  come  with  me, 
That  scorn  the  world  for  love  of  thee ; 
Here  we  will  live,  within  this  park, 
A  court  of  joy  and  pleasure's  ark. 

Here  we  will  hunt,  here  we  will  range; 
Constant  in  love,  our  sports  we  '11  change  j 
Of  hearts,  if  any  change  we  make, 
I  will  have  thine,  thou  mine  shalt  take. 

Here  we  will  walk  upon  the  lawns, 
And  see  the  tripping  of  the  fawns : 
And  all  the  deer  shall  wait  on  thee,  — 
Thou  shalt  command  both  them  and  me. 

The  leaves  a  whisp'ring  noise  shall  make, 
Their  musick-notes  the  birds  shall  wake ; 
And  while  thou  art  in  quiet  sleep. 
Through  the  green  wood  shall  silence  keep. 

And  while  my  herds  about  thee  feed, 
Love's  lessons  in  thy  face  111  read, 
And  feed  upon  thy  lovely  look. 
For  beauty  hath  no  fairer  book. 


70  ALOVEGIFT. 

It 's  not  the  weather,  nor  the  air, 

It  is  thyself,  that  is  so  fair; 

Nor  (loth  it  rain  when  heaven  lowers, 

But  when  you  frown,  then  fall  the  showers. 

One  sun  alone  moves  in  the  sky, — 
Two  suns  thou  hast.  o«e  in  each  eye; 
Only  by  day  that  sun  gives  light, — 
"Where  thine  doth  rise  there  is  no  night. 

Fair  starry  twins,  scorn  not  to  shine 
Upon  my  lambs,  upon  my  kine ; 
My  grass  doth  grow,  my  corn  and  vv-heat, 
My  fruit,  my  vines,  thrive  by  their  heat. 

Thou  shalt  have  wool,  thou  shalt  have  silk, 
Thou  shalt  have  honey,  wine,  and  milk  ; 
Thou  shalt  have  all,  for  all  is  due 
"Wliere  thoughts  are  free  and  love  is  true. 


SIR  JOHN  BEAUMONT. 

The  bleakest  rock  upon  the  loneliest  heath 

Feels,  in  its  barrenness,  some  touch  of  spring, 

And,  in  the  April  dew,  or  beam  of  May, 

Its  moss  and  lichen  freshens  and  revives: 

And  thus  the  heart,  most  seard  to  human  pleasure, 

Melts  at  the  tear,  joys  at  the  smile  of  woman. 


L   O  V  E       G    I   F   T  .  71 


A    DESCRIPnoX    OF    LOVE. 

Love  is  a  region,  full  of  fires, 
And  burning  with  extreme  desires, 
An  object  seeks,  of  which  possest 
The  wheels  are  fixed,  the  motions  rest, 
The  flames  in  ashes  lie  opprest; 
This  meteor,  striving  high  to  rise, 
(The  fuel  spent)  falls  down  and  dies. 

Much  sweeter,  and  more  pure  delights 
Are  drawn  from  fair  alluring  sights, 
\Mien  ravisht  minds  attempt  to  praise 
Commanding  eyes,  like  heavenly  rays; 
"WTiose  force  the  gentle  heart  obeys: 
Than  where  the  end  of  this  pretence 
Descends  to  base  inferior  sense. 

'  Why  then  should  lovers  (most  will  say) 
Expect  so  much  th'  enjoying  day?^ 
Love  is  like  youth,  he  thirsts  for  age, 
He  scorns  to  be  his  mother's  page : 
But  when  proceeding  time  assuage 
The  former  heat,  he  will  complain. 
And  wish  those  pleasant  hours  again. 

We  know  that  Hope  and  Love  are  twins ! 
Hope  gone,  fruition  now  begins; 
But  what  is  this  ?     Unconstant,  frail. 
Is  nothing  sure,  but  sure  to  fail: 


A       LOVE       GIFT, 

Which,  if  we  lose  it,  we  l>e>vail ! 
And  when  we  have  it,  still  we  bear 
The  worst  of  passions,  daily  fear. 

When  Love  thus  in  his  centre  ends, 
Desire  and  Hope,  his  inward  friends, 
Are  shaken  off:  while  Doubt  and  Grief, 
The  weakest  givers  of  relief, 
Stand  in  his  council  as  the  chief: 
And  now  he  to  this  period  brought, 
From  Love,  becomes  some  other  thought. 

These  lines  I  write  not  to  remove 
United  souls  from  serious  love  : 
The  best  attempts  by  mortals  made, 
Reflect  on  thing:s  which  quickly  fade ! 
Yet  never  will  I  men  persuade 
To  leave  affections,  where  may  shine 
Impressions  of  the  Love  divine. 


WILLL\M  DRUMMOND. 


Trust  not,  sweet  Soul !  those  curled  waves  of  gold, 
With  gentle  tides  that  on  your  temples  flow  ! 
Nor  temples  spread  with  flakes  of  virgin  snow  ! 
Nor  snow  of  cheeks,  with  tyrian  grain  enrolFd : 


ALOVEGIFT.  /J 

Trust  not  those  shining  lights,  which  wrought  my  woe 
When  first  I  did  their  azure  rays  behold ! 
Nor  voice,  whose  sounds  more  strange  effects  do  show 
Than  of  the  thracian  harper  have  been  told. 
Look  to  this  dying  lily,  fading  rose ! 
Dark  hyacinth,  of  late  whose  blushing  beams 
Made  all  the  neighbouring  herbs  and  grass  rejoice ! 
And  think  how  little  is  'twixt  life's  extremes ! 
The  cruel  tyrant,  that  did  kill  those  flow'rs, 
Shall  once,  ah  me  !  not  spare  that  Spring  of  your's. 


0  SACRED  Blush!  enpurpling  cheeks'  pure  skies 
With  crimson  w  ings,  which  spread  thee  like  the  morn  ! 
0  bashful  Look  !  sent  from  those  shining  eyes, 
Which,  though  slid  down  on  earth,  doth  heaven  adorn  ! 
0  Tongue !  in  which  most  luscious  nectar  lies, 
That  can  at  once  both  bless  and  make  forlorn  ! 
Dear  coral  Lip  !  which  beauty  beautifies : 
That  trembling  stood,  before  her  words  were  bom ! 
And  ye,  her  Words !  words  no  —  but  golden  chains 
Which  did  enslave  my  ears,  ensnare  my  soul ; 
Wise  image  of  her  mind,  mind  that  contains 
A  power  all  power  of  senses  to  control : 
So  sweetly  you  from  love  dissuade  do  me, 
That  I  love  more,  if  more  my  love  can  be. 


74  ALOVEGIFT 


Alt-  other  Beauties,  howsoe'er  they  shine ! 
In  hairs  more  bright  than  is  the  goWen  ore. 
Or  cheeks  niore  fair  than  fairest  eglantine, 
Or  hands  like  her  that  comes  the  sun  before ! 
Match'd  with  that  heavenly  hue  and  shape  of  thine, 
With  those  dear  stars  which  my  weak  thoughts  adore, 
Look  but  as  shadows  —  or  if  they  be  more, 
It  is  in  this,  that  they  are  like  to  thine  ! 
Who  sees  those  eyes,  their  force  that  doth  not  prove  ? 
Who  gazeth  on  the  dimple  of  that  chin. 
And  finds  not  Venus'  son  entrench'd  therein, 
Or  hath  not  sense,  or  knows  not  what  is  love. 
To  see  thee,  had  Narcissus  had  the  grace, 
He  would  have  died  with  wondering  on  thy  face ! 


THE    KISS. 

Thk  kiss,  with  so  much  strife. 

Which  I  late  got,  sweet  Heart ! 

Was  it  a  sign  of  death,  or  was  it  life  ? 

Of  life  it  could  not  be. 

For  I  by  it  did  sigh  my  soul  in  thee : 

Nor  was  it  death,  death  doth  no  joy  impart. 

Thou  silent  stand'st. — Ah  !  what  didst  thou  bequeath 

A  dying  life  to  me,  or  living  death  ? 


75 


ALL     CHANGETH. 

'  The  angry  winds  not  aye 

Do  cufF  the  roaring  deep  ; 

And  though  heai-ens  often  weep, 

Yet  do  they  smile  for  joy,  when  comes  dismay: 

Frosts  do  not  ever  kill  the  pleasant  flow'rs  ; 

And  love  hath  sweets,  when  gone  are  all  the  sours.' 

This  said  a  Shepherd,  closing  in  his  arms 

His  Dear ;  who  blushed  to  feel  love's  new  alarms ! 


JOHN  FORD. 

THE  shepherd's  SORROW  FOR  HIS  PHCEEe's  DISDAIN. 

Oh  !  woods,  unto  your  walks  my  body  hies. 
To  loose  the  trayterous  bonds  of  tyring  love ; 
Where  trees,  where  herbs,  where  flowers, 
Their  native  moisture  poures. 
From  forth  their  tender  stalks  to  helpe  mine  eyes  : 
Yet  their  united  teares  may  nothing  move. 

When  I  behold  the  fair  adorned  tree. 

Which  lightning's  force  and  winter's  frosts  resist : 
Then  Daphne's  ill  betide, 
And  Phoebe's  lawless  pride, 
Enforce  me  say  even  such  my  sorrows  be. 
For  selfe  disdaine  in  Pha-be's  heart  consists. 


76  ALOVEGIFT. 

If  I  behold  the  flowers  by  morning  teares, 
Looke  lovely  sweet,  ah!  then  forlorne  I  crie, 
Sweet  showers,  for  Memnon  shed, 
All  flowers  by  you  are  fed ; 
Whereas  my  piteous  plant  that  still  appears, 
Yields  vigour  to  her  scornes  and  makes  me  die. 

"When  I  regard  the  pretty  glee-full  bird. 

With  tear-full  (yet  delightfull)  notes  complaine, 
I  yield  a  terror  with  my  teares ! 
And  whilst  her  musicke  woundes  my  eares, 
Alas  !  say  I,  when  will  my  notes  afford 

Such  like  remorse  who  still  beweepe  my  paine ! 

When  I  behold  upon  the  leafeless  bough 
The  haplesse  bird  lament  her  love's  depart, 
I  draw  her  tiding  nigh, 
And  sitting  down  I  sigh ! 
And  sighing  say,  alas !  that  birds  avow 

A  settling  faith,  yet  Phtt'be  scorns  my  smart. 

Thus,  wearie  in  my  walke,  and  woefuU  too, 
I  spend  the  day  forespent  with  daily  griefe ! 
Each  object  of  distresse 
My  sorrow  doth  expresse, 
I  doate  on  that  which  doth  my  heart  undoe, 
And  honour  her  that  scorns  to  yield  reliefe. 


L  O  T  E       G  I  F    r  .  77 


GEORGE  WITHER. 

FROM      'fair     virtue.' 

Hail  thou  fairest  of  all  creatures 

Upon  whom  the  sun  doth  shine ; 

Model  of  all  rarest  features, 

And  perfections  most  divine. 
Thrice  all  hail !  and  blessed  be 
Those  that  love  and  honour  thee. 

This,  thy  picture;  therefore  shew  I 
Naked  unto  every  eye, 
Yet  no  feare  of  rival  know  I, 
Neither  touch  of  jealousie ; 

For,  the  more  make  love  to  thee, 

I  the  more  shall  pleased  be. 

I  am  no  Italian  lover, 

That  will  mew  thee  in  a  jayle  ; 

But,  thy  beautie  I  discover, 

English-like,  without  a  vail: 
If  thou  mayst  be  won  away, 
Win  and  wear  thee  he  that  may. 

Yet,  in  this  thou  mayst  believe  me : 

(So  indifferent  tho'  I  seem) 

Death  with  tortures  would  not  grieve  me, 


78  ALOVEGIFT. 

More  than  loss  of  thy  esteem ; 
For,  if  virtue  me  forsake, 
All,  a  scorn  of  me  will  make. 

Then,  as  I  on  thee  relying 
Doe  no  changing  feare  in  thee ; 
So,  by  my  defects  supplying, 
From  all  changing,  keep  thou  me. 
That,  unmatched  we  may  prove, 
Thou,  for  beautie ;  I,  for  love. 


A    SONNET    rPON    A    STOLEN    KISS. 

Now  GENTLE  sleep  hath  closed  up  those  eyes, 
Which,  waking,  kept  my  boldest  thoughts  in  awe ; 
And  free  access,  unto  that  sweet  lip,  lies, 
From  whence  I  long  the  rosie  breath  to  draw. 
Methinks  no  wrong  it  were,  if  I  should  steal 
From  those  two  melting  rubies,  one  poor  kiss; 
None  sees  the  theft  that  would  the  thief  reveal, 
Nor  rob  I  her  of  ought  which  she  can  miss : 
Nay,  should  I  twenty  kisses  take  away, 
There  would  be  little  sign  I  had  done  .so; 
Why  then  should  I  this  robbery  delay? 
O  !  she  may  wake,  and  therewith  angry  grow  ! 
Well,  if  she  do,  I'll  back  restore  that  one. 
And  twenty  hundred  thousand  more  for  loan. 


LOVKGIFT.  79 


\VILLIA:M  BROWNE. 


Shall  T  tell  you  whom  I  love? 

Harken  then  a  while  to  me, 
And  if  such  a  woman  move 

As  I  now  shall  versify; 
Be  assured,  't  is  she,  or  none, 

That  I  love,  and  love  alone. 

Nature  did  her  so  much  right, 
As  she  scorns  the  help  of  art. 

In  as  many  virtues  diijht 

As  e'er  yet  embraced  a  heart. 

So  much  good  so  truly  tried, 

Some  for  less  were  deilied. 

Wit  she  hath,  without  desire 

To  make  known  how  much  she  hath ; 
And  her  anger  flames  no  higher 

Than  may  fitly  sweeten  wrath. 
Full  of  pity  as  may  be 

Though  perhaps  not  so  to  me. 

Reason  masters  every  sense, 

And  her  virtues  grace  her  birth : 


80  A       L   O  V   E       G   I   F  T  . 

Lovely  as  all  excellence, 

Modest  in  her  most  of  mirth : 
Likelihood  enough  to  prove 
Only  worth  could  kindle  love. 

Such  she  is:  and  if  you  know 
Such  a  one  as  I  have  sung ; 

Be  she  brown,  or  fair,  or  so, 

That  she  be  but  some  while  young; 

Be  assured,  'tis  she,  or  none, 

That  I  love,  and  love  alone. 


Gentt.e  nymphs,  be  not  refusing. 
Love's  neglect  is  time's  abusing. 

They  and  beauty  are  but  lent  you  ; 
Take  the  one,  and  keep  the  other: 
Love  keeps  fresh  what  age  doth  smother, 

Beauty  gone,  you  will  repent  you. 

'Twill  be  said,  when  ye  have  proved, 
Never  swains  more  truly  loved  : 

O,  then  fly  all  nice  behaviour! 
Pity  fain  would  (as  her  duty) 
Be  attending  still  on  Beauty, 

Let  her  not  be  out  of  favour. 


L   O   V   E       G   I   F   T  .  SI 


LOVERS    PARTING. 


Look  as  a  lover,  with  a  lingering  kiss, 

About  to  part  with  the  best  half  that's  his; 

Fain  would  he  stay,  but  that  he  fears  to  do  it, 

And  curseth  time  for  so  fast  hastening  to  it ! 

Now  takes  his  leave,  and  yet  begins  anew 

To  make  less  vows  than  are  esteemed  true ; 

Then  says  he  must  be  gone,  and  then  doth  find 

Something  he  should  have  spoke  that's  out  of  mind; 

And  whilst  he  stands  to  look  for  it  in  her  eyes, 

Their  sad  sweet  glance  so  tie  his  faculties, 

To  think  from  what  he  parts,  that  he  is  now 

As  far  from  leaving  her,  or  knowing  how, 

As  when  he  came;  begins  his  former  strain. 

To  kiss,  to  vow,  and  take  his  leave  again : 

Then  turns,  comes  back,  sighs,  pants,  and  yet  doth  go. 

Apt  to  retire,  and  loathe  to  leave  her  so ;  — 

So  part  I. 


THE    SIREN  S    SONG. 

SxEERE  hither,  steere,  your  winged  pines, 

All  beaten  mariners, 
Here  lie  Love's  undiscovered  mines, 

A  prey  to  passengers ; 


82  ALOVEGIFT, 

Perfumes  far  sweeter  than  the  best 
Which  makes  tlie  pha'iiix'  urn  and  nest, 

Fear  not  youre  ships, 
Nor  any  to  oppose  you,  save  our  lips, 

But  come  on  shore 
"Where  no  joy  dies  till  love  hath  gotten  more. 

For  swelling  waves,  our  panting  breasts. 

Where  never  stormes  arise, 
Exchange;  and  be  awhile  our  guests: 

For  starres  gaze  on  our  eyes. 
The  compass,  love  shall  hourly  sing, 
And  as  he  goes  about  the  ring, 

We  will  not  misse 
To  tell  each  point  he  nameth  with  a  kisse. 


NATHANIEL  FIELD. 

THE       WAKING       BEAUTY. 

Rise,  lady!  mistress  rise! 

The  night  hath  tedious  been. 
No  sleep  hath  fallen  into  my  eyes, 

Nor  slumbers  made  me  sin : 
Is  not  she  a  saint  then,  say, 
Thought  of  whom  keeps  sin  away  ? 


83 


Rise,  miidam,  rise!  and  give  me  light, 
Whom  darkness  still  will  cover, 

And  ignorance,  darker  than  night, 
Till  thou  smile  on  thy  lover; 

All  want  day  till  thy  beauty  rise  — 

For  the  gray  morn  breaks  from  thine  eyes. 


ROBERT  HERRICK. 

THE    ROSARY. 

One  ask'd  me  where  the  roses  grew% 

1  bade  him  not  go  seek ; 
But  forthwith  bade  my  Julia  shew 

A  bud  in  either  cheek. 

Some  ask'd  me  where  the  rubies  grow ! 

And  nothing  I  did  say, 
But  with  my  finger  pointed  to 

The  lips  of  Julia. 

Some  ask  how  pearls  did  grow,  and  where: 

Then  spoke  I  to  my  girl 
To  part  her  lips,  and  shew  them  there, 

The  quarrelets  of  pearl. 


84  ALOVEGIFT. 


THE    CAPTIVE    BEE. 

As  Julia  once  a  slumbering  lay, 

It  chanc'd  a  Bee  did  fly  that  way, 

After  a  dew,  or  dew-like  shower, 

To  tipple  freely  in  a  flower. 

For  some  rich  flower,  he  took  the  lip 

Of  Julia,  and  began  to  sip ; 

But  when  he  felt  he  suck'd  from  thence 

Honey,  and  in  the  quintessence. 

He  drank  so  much  he  scarce  could  stir, 

So  Julia  took  the  Pilferer. 

And  thus  surpris'd,  as  filchers  use, 

He  thus  began  himself  t'  excuse: 

Sweet  Lady-Flower^  I  never  brought 

Hither  the  least  one  thieving  thought; 

But  taking  those  rare  lips  of  yours 

For  some  fresh,  fragrant,  luscious  flowers, 

I  thought  I  might  there  take  a  taste, 

"Where  so  much  syrup  ran  at  waste. 

Besides,  know  this,  I  never  sting 

The  flower  that  gives  me  nourishing; 

But  with  a  kiss,  or  thanks,  do  pay 

For  honey  that  I  bear  away. 

This  said,  he  laid  his  little  scrip 

Of  honey  'fore  her  Ladyship : 

And  told  her,  as  some  tears  did  fall. 

That  that  he  took,  and  that  was  all. 

At  which  she  smil'd,  and  bade  him  go 


ALOVEGIFT.  85 

And  take  his  bag:  but  thus  much  know, 
When  next  he  canae  a  pilfering  so, 
He  should  fronn  her  full  lips  derive, 
Honey  enough  to  fill  his  hive. 


TO    THE    VIRGINS,    TO    MAKE    MUCH    OF    TIME. 

Gather  ye  rose-buds  while  ye  may, 

Old  Time  is  still  a  flying; 
And  this  same  flower  that  smiles  to-day, 

To-morrow  will  be  dying. 

The  glorious  lamp  of  heaven,  the  Sun, 

The  higher  he  's  a  getting, 
The  sooner  will  his  race  be  run, 

And  nearer  he  's  to  setting. 

That  age  is  best  which  is  the  first. 
When  youth  and  blood  are  warmer ; 

But  being  spent,  the  worse  and  worst 
Times  still  succeed  the  former. 

Then  be  not  coy,  but  use  your  time, 
And  while  ye  may  go  marry; 

For  having  lost  but  once  your  prime. 
You  may  for  ever  tarry. 


L   O  T   E       GIFT 


HYMN    TO    VENUS. 


Goddess  !  I  do  love  a  Girl 
Ruby-lipt,  and  tooth'd  with  pearl ! 
If  so  be  I  may  but  prove 
Lucky  in  this  ]\!aid  I  love  ; 
I  will  promise  there  shall  be 
Myrtles  offered  up  to  Thee. 


DOCTOR  HENRY  KING. 


Dry  those  fair,  those  crystal  eyes, 

Which  like  growing-  fountains  rise 

To  drown  their  banks !     Grief's  sullen  brooks 

Would  better  flow  in  furrow'd  looks: 

Thy  lovely  face  was  never  meant 

To  be  the  store  of  discontent. 

Then  clear  those  waterish  stars  again, 
Which  else  portend  a  lasting  rain  ; 
Lest  the  clouds  which  settle  there 
Prolong  my  winter  all  the  year, 
And  thy  example  others  make 
In  love  with  sorrow,  for  thy  sake. 


LOVEGIFT.  87 


THOMAS  MAY. 

Dear  !  do  not  your  fair  beauty  wrong, 
In  thinking  still  you  are  too  young! 
The  rose  and  lilies  in  your  cheek 
Flourish,  and  no  more  ripeness  seek. 

Your  cherry  lip,  red,  soft,  and  sweet, 
Proclaims  such  fruit  for  taste  most  meet: 
Then  lose  no  time  !  —  for  Love  has  wings. 
And  flies  away  from  aged  things. 


WILLIAM  HABINGTOX. 


PARTING. 

I  AM  engag'd  to  sorrow:  and  my  heart 
Feels  a  distracted  rage.     Though  you  depart, 
And  leave  me  to  my  fears  :  let  love,  in  spite  j 

Of  absence,  our  divided  souls  unite  : 
But  you  must  go  !     The  melancholy  Doves  I 

Draw  Venus'  chariot  hence;  the  sportive  Loves,    | 
Which  wont  to  wanton  here,  hence  with  you  fly; 
And  like  false  friends,  forsake  me  when  I  die. 
For  but  a  walking  tomb,  what  can  he  be 
Whose  best  of  life  is  forced  to  part  with  thee  ? 


LOVE       GIFT. 


What  should  we  fear,  Castara?     The  cool  air, 

That's  fallen  in  love,  and  wantons  in  thy  hair, 

Will  not  betray  our  whispers.     Should  I  steal 

A  nectar'd  kiss,  the  wind  dares  not  reveal 

The  pleasure  I  possess ;  the  wind  conspires 

To  our  blest  interview,  and  in  our  fires 

Bathes  like  a  Salamander ;  and  doth  sip 

Like  Bacchus  from  the  grape,  life  from  thy  lip  ! 

Nor  think  of  night's  approach.    The  world's  great  Eye, 

Though  breaking  Nature's  law,  will  us  supply 

With  his  still  flaming  lamp ;  and,  to  obey 

Our  chaste  desires,  fix  here  perpetual  day ! 

But  should  he  set,  what  rebel  Night  dares  rise, 
To  be  subdu'd  in  th'  victory  of  thy  eyes  1 


TO    THE    dew;    in   HOPE  TO   SEE   CASTARA   WALKING. 

Bright  Dew!  which  dost  the  field  adorn, 
As  th'  Earth,  to  welcome  in  the  morn, 
Would  hang  a  jewel  on  each  corn  : 

Did  not  the  piteous  Night,  whose  ears 
Have  oft  been  conscious  of  my  fears, 
Distil  you  from  her  eyes,  as  tears  1 

Or  that  Castara,  for  your  zeal, 
When  she  her  beauties  shall  reveal, 
Might  you  to  diamonds  congeal  1 


L   O  V   K       GIFT 


89 


If  not  your  pity,  yet  howe'er 

Your  care  I  praise;  'gainst  she  appear, 

To  make  the  wealthy  Indies  here. 

But  see,  she  comes !     Bright  lamp  o'  th'  sky 
Put  out  thy  light ;  the  world  shall  spy 
A  fairer  sun  in  either  eye ! 

And  liquid  pearl  hang  heavy  now 
On  every  grass,  that  it  may  bow 
In  veneration  of  her  brow  ! 

Yet  if  the  wind  should  curious  be, 

And  where  /here'?  should  question  thee: 

He 's  full  of  whispers,  speak  not  me  ! 

But  if  the  busy  tell-tale  Day 
Our  happy  interview  betray; 
Lest  thou  confess  too,  melt  away ! 


TO    CASTARA. 

We  saw  and  woo'd  each  other's  eyes ; 

My  soul  contracted  then  with  thine. 
And  both  burnt  in  one  sacrifice. 

By  which  our  marriage  grew  divine. 

Let  wilder  youth,  whose  soul  is  sense, 
Profane  the  temple  of  delight. 

And  purchase  endless  penitence 

With  the  stoFn  pleasure  of  one  night. 


90  A       L   O  V   E       G   I   F  T  . 

Time 's  ever  ours,  while  we  despise 
The  sensual  idol  of  our  clay: 

For  though  the  Sun  do  set  and  rise, 
We  joy  one  everlasting  day; 

Whose  light  no  jealous  clouds  obscure, 
While  each  of  us  shine  innocent, 

The  troubled  stream  is  still  impure: 
With  virtue  flies  away  content. 

And  though  opinion  often  err. 

We'll  court  the  modest  smile  of  fame; 

For  sin's  black  danger  circles  her, 
Who  hath  infection  in  her  name. 

Thus  when  to  one  dark  silent  room 
Death  shall  our  loving  coffins  thrust, 

Fame  will  build  columns  on  our  tomb, 
And  add  a  perfume  to  our  dust ! 


SIR  WILLIA.M  DAVENANT. 


The  lark  now  leaves  his  wafry  nest. 
And  climbing,  shakes  his  dewy  wings; 

He  takes  his  window  for  the  east ; 
And  to  implore  your  light,  he  sings. 

Awake,  awake,  the  morn  will  never  rise. 

Till  she  can  dress  her  beauty  at  your  eyes. 


LOVE       GIFT 


91 


The  merchant  bows  unto  the  seaman's  star, 
The  ploughman  from  the  sun  his  season  takes  ; 

But  still  the  lover  wonders  what  they  are, 
Who  look  for  day  before  his  mistress  wakes. 

Awake,  awake,  break  through  your  vails  of  lawn  ! 

Then  draw  your  curtains,  and  begin  the  dawn. 


THOMAS  RANDOLPH. 

ON    HIS    MISTRESS. 

I  HAVE  a  Mistress,  for  perfections  rare 

In  every  eye,  but  in  my  thoughts  most  fair! 

Like  tapers,  on  the  altar,  shine  her  eyes; 

Her  breath  is  the  perfume  of  sacrifice ; 

And  wheresoe'er  my  fancy  would  begin, 

Still  her  perfection  lets  religion  in  ! 

I  touch  her,  like  my  beads,  with  devout  care; 

And  come  unto  my  courtship,  as  my  prayer : 

We  sit,  and  talk;  and  kiss  away  the  hours. 

As  chastely  as  the  morning  dews  kiss  flowers. 

We  wear  no  flesh:  but  one  another  greet, 
As  blessed  souls  in  separation  meet. 
Were  it  possible  that  my  ambitious  sin 
Durst  commit  rapes  upon  a  cherubin ; 
I  might  have  lustful  thought  to  her,  of  all 
Earth's  heavenly  quire  the  most  angelical! 


92  AL.0TE6IFT. 

Looking:  into  my  breast,  her  form  I  find, 
That,  like  my  guardian  angel,  keeps  my  mind 
From  rude  attempts ;  and  when  affections  stir, 
I  calm  all  passions  with  one  thought  of  her. 

Thus  they  whose  reasons  love,  and  not  their  sense, 
The  Spirits  love  :  thus  one  intelligence 
Reflects  upon  his  like ;  and  by  chaste  loves. 
In  the  same  sphere  this  and  that  Angel  moves. 
Beasts  love  like  men ;  if  men  in  lust  delight, 
And  call  that  love  which  is  but  appetite ! 
When  essence  meets  with  essence,  and  souls  join 
In  mutual  knots,  that's  the  true  nuptial  twine. 
Such,  Lady!  is  my  love;  and  such  is  true: 
All  other  love  is  to  your  sex,  not  you. 


TO  A  LADY  ADMIRING  HERSELF  IN  A  LOOKING-GLASS. 

Fair  Lady,  when  you  see  the  grace 
Of  beauty  in  your  looking-glass  — 
A  stately  forehead,  smooth  and  high, 
And  full  of  princely  majesty; 
A  sparkling  eye,  no  gem  so  fair, 
"Whose  lustre  dims  the  cy])rian  star; 
A  glorious  cheek,  divinely  sweet, 
Wheiein  both  roses  kindly  meet; 
A  cherry  lip  that  would  entice 
Even  gods  to  kiss,  at  any  price; 


ALOTKGIFT.  93 

You  think  no  beauty  is  so  rare, 
That  with  your  shadow  might  compare, 
That  your  reflection  is  alone 
The  thing  that  men  must  doat  upon. 
Madam,  alas  !  your  glass  doth  lie  ; 
And  you  are  much  deceiv'd,  for  I 
A  beauty  know  of  richer  grace. 
Sweet!  be  not  angry  —  'tis  your  face. 
Hence  then,  0  learn  more  mild  to  be, 
And  leave  to  lay  your  blame  on  me ! 
If  me  your  real  substance  move, 
"VSTien  you  so  much  your  shadow  love. 
Wise  nature  would  not  let  your  eye 
Look  on  her  own  bright  majesty, 
Which  had  you  once  but  gaz'd  upon, 
You  could  except  yourself  love  none  : 
What  then  you  cannot  love,  let  me  — 
That  face  I  can,  you  cannot  see  ! 

'  Now,  you  have  what  you  love  (you  11  say), 
What  then  is  left  for  me,  I  pray  1 ' 
^ly  face,  sweet  heart !  if  it  please  thee  ; 
That  which  you  can,  I  cannot  see. 
So  either  love  shall  gain  his  due. 
Your  s,  Sweet !  in  me,  and  mine  in  you  ! 


94 


LOVE       GIFT 


EDMUND  WALLER. 


ON    A    GIRDLl 


That  which  her  slender  waist  confined 
Shall  now  my  joyful  temples  bind  : 
No  monarch  but  would  give  his  crown, 
His  arms  might  do  what  this  has  done. 


It  was  my  heavens  extremest  sphere, 
The  pale  that  held  that  lovely  deer; 
My  joy,  my  grief,  my  hope,  my  love, 
Did  all  within  this  circle  move. 


A  narrow  compass  !  and  yet  there 
Dwelt  all  that's  good,  and  all  that 's  fair: 
Give  me  but  what  this  ribbon  bound, 
Take  all  the  rest  the  sun  goes  round. 


L    O   V    E       G   I    F   T  .  95 


THE    ROSE. 


Go.  LOVELY  rose ! 
Tell  her  that  wastes  her  time  and  me, 

That  now  she  knows, 
WTien  I  resemble  her  to  thee, 
How  sweet  and  fair  she  seems  to  be. 


Tell  her  that 's  young. 
And  shuns  to  have  her  ^aces  spied, 

That  hadst  thou  sprung 
In  desarts  where  no  men  abide, 
Thou  must  have  uncommended  died. 


Small  is  the  worth 
Of  beauty  from  the  light  retired : 

Bid  her  come  forth. 
Suffer  herself  to  be  desired, 
And  not  blush  to  be  admired. 


Then,  die  :  that  she 
The  common  fate  of  all  things  rare 

jNIay  read  in  thee  ; 
How  small  a  part  of  time  they  share, 
That  are  so  wondrous  sweet  and  fair. 


96  ALOVEGIFT 


SIR  RICHARD  FANSHAWE. 


THE    ROSE. 

Thou  blushing  rose,  within  whose  virgin  leaves 

The  wanton  wind  to  sport  himself  presumes, 
Whilst  from  their  rifled  wardrobe  he  receives 

For  his  wings  pui-ple,  for  his  breath  perfumes  ; 
Blown  in  the  morning,  thou  shalt  fade  ere  noon. 

What  boots  a  life  which  in  such  haste  forsakes  thee  ? 
Thou  'rt  wondrous  frolic,  being  to  die  so  soon, 

And  passing  proud  a  little  colour  makes  thee. 
If  thee  thy  brittle  beauty  so  deceives, 

Know  then,  the  thing  that  swells  thee  is  thy  bane  ; 
For  that  same  beauty  doth  in  bloody  leaves 

The  sentence  of  thy  early  death  contain. 
Some   clown's   coarse   lungs  will  poison  thy  sweet 
flower. 

If  by  the  careless  plough  thou  shalt  be  torn ; 
And  many  Herods  lie  in  wait  each  hour 

To  murder  thee  as  soon  as  thou  art  born. 
Nay,  force  thy  bud  to  blow,  their  tyrant  breath 
Anticipating  life,  to  hasten  death. 


ALOVEGIFT.  97 


JOHN  MILTON. 

TO    THE    NIGHTINGALE. 

O  NIGHTINGALE,  that  On  yon  bloomy  spray 

Warblest  at  eve.  when  all  the  woods  are  still! 

Thou  with  fresh  hope  the  lovers  heart  dost  fill, 
While  the  jolly  Hours  lead  on  propitious  May. 
Thy  liquid  notes,  that  close  the  eye  of  Day, 

First  heard  before  the  shallow  cuckoo's  bill, 

Portend  success  in  love :   0  if  Jove's  will 
Have  link'd  that  amorous  power  to  thy  soft  lay, 

Now  timely  sing,  ere  the  rude  bird  of  hate 
Foretell  my  hopeless  doom  in  some  grove  nigh; 

As  thou,  from  year  to  year,  hast  sung  too  late 
For  my  relief  yet  hadst  no  reason  why. 

Wliether  the  ^Nluse  or  Love  call  thee  his  mate, 
Both  them  I  serve,  and  of  their  train  am  I. 


0  LADY  fair!  whose  honourd  name  is  borne 
By  that  soft  vale,  where  Rhine  so  loves  to  stray. 
And  sees  the  tall  arch  crown  his  watery  way! 

Sure  happy  he,  though  much  the  Muse's  scorn, 
Too  dull  to  die  beneath  thy  beauty's  ray, 
Who  never  felt  that  spirit's  charmed  sway 


98  ALOVEGIFT. 

Which  gentle  smiles  and  gentle  deeds  adorn ; 

Though  in  those  smiles  are  all  love's  arrows  worn^ 
Each  radiant  virtue  though  those  deeds  display  f 

Sure  happy  he,  who  that  sweet  voice  should  hear 
Mould  the  soft  speech,  or  swell  the  tuneful  strain, 
And,  conscious  that  his  humble  vows  were  vain, 

Shut  fond  attention  from  his  closed  ear ; 

Who,  piteous  of  himself,  should  timely  part, 
Ere  love  had  held  long  empire  in  his  heart ! 


HENRY  GLAPTHORNE. 


Unclose  those  eye-lids,  and  outshine 
The  brightness  of  the  breaking  day  ! 

The  light  they  cover  is  divine, 

Why  should  it  fade  so  soon  away  ? 

Stars  vanish  so,  and  day  appears  ; 

The  suns  so  drown'd  i'  th'  morning  tears. 

Oh  1  let  not  sadness  cloud  this  beauty, 
Which  if  you  lose,  you  '11  ne'er  recover! 

It  is  not  love's  but  sorrow's  duly. 
To  die  so  soon  for  a  dead  lover. 

Banish,  oh  !  banish  grief,  and  then 

Our  joys  will  bring  our  hopes  again. 


L   O  V   E       G   1   F   T  .  09 


SIR  JOHN  SUCKLING. 

When,  dearest !  I  but  think  of  thee, 
ZMethinks  all  things  that  lovely  be 
Are  present,  and  my  soul  delighted; 
For  beauties  that  from  worth  arise, 
Are.  like  the  grace  of  deities, 
Still  present  with  us,  though  unsighted. 

Thus,  whilst  I  sit  and  sigh  the  day, 

"With  all  his  borrow'd  lights  away, 

Till  night's  black  wings  do  overtake  me ; 

Thinking  on  thee,  thy  beauties  then, 

As  sudden  lights  do  sleepy  men, 

So  they  by  their  bright  rays  awake  me. 

Thus  absence  dies ;  and  dying,  proves 
No  absence  can  subsist  with  loves 
That  do  partake  of  fair  perfection : 
Since  in  the  darkest  night  they  miy, 
By  love's  quick  motion,  find  a  way 
To  see  each  other  by  reflection. 

The  waving  sea  can  with  each  flood 
Bathe  some  high  promont'.  that  has  stood 
Far  from  the  main  up  in  the  river: 
Oh  !  think  not,  then,  but  love  can  do 
As  much ;  for  that's  an  ocean  too, 
Which  flows  not  every  day,  but  ever ! 


100  A       LOVE 


Why  so  pale  and  wan,  fond  lover? 

Prithee,  why  so  pale  ? 
Will,  when  looking  well  can't  move  her, 

Looking  ill  prevail  ? 

Prithee  why  so  pale  ? 

Why  so  dull  and  mute,  young  sinner? 

Prithee,  why  so  mute  ? 
Will,  when  speaking  well  can't  win  her. 

Saying  nothing  do  't  ? 

Prithee,  why  so  mute  ? 

Quit,  quit  for  shame ;  this  will  not  move 

This  cannot  take  her ; 
If  of  herself  she  will  not  love, 

Nothing  can  make  her. 

The  devil  take  her ! 


RICHARD  LOVELACE. 


TO    ALTHEA,  FROM    PRISON. 


Hovers  within  my  gates. 

And  my  divine  Althea  brings 

To  whisper  at  the  grates ; 


A       LOVE       GIFT.  101 

WTien  I  lie  tangled  in  her  hair, 

And  fetter'd  to  her  eye, — 
The  birds,  that  wanton  in  the  air, 

Know  no  such  liberty. 

When  flowing  cups  run  swiftly  round, 

With  no  allaying  Thames, 
Our  careless  heads  with  roses  bound, 

Our  hearts  with  loyal  flames  ; 
When  thirsty  grief  in  wine  we  steep, 

When  healths  and  draughts  go  free, — 
Fishes,  that  tipple  in  the  deep, 

Know  no  such  liberty. 

When,  like  committed  linnets,  I 

With  shriller  throat  shall  sing 
The  sweetness,  mercy,  majesty, 

And  glories  of  my  king; 
When  I  shall  voice  aloud  how  good 

He  is,  how  great  should  be,  — 
Enlarged  winds,  that  curl  the  flood, 

Elnow  no  such  liberty. 

Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make. 

Nor  iron  bars  a  cage ; 
Minds  innocent  and  quiet  take 

That  for  an  hermitage. 
If  I  have  freedom  in  my  love, 

And  in  my  soul  am  free, — 
Angels  alone,  that  soar  above, 

Enjoy  such  liberty. 


102  A       LOVE       GIFT. 

ABRAHAM   COWLEY. 

THE    CHANGE. 

Love  in  her  sunny  eyes  does  basking  j)Iay; 
Love  walks  the  pleasant  mazes  of  her  hair ; 
Love  does  on  both  her  lips  for  ever  stay, 
And  sows  and  reaps  a  thousand  kisses  there : 
Li  all  her  outward  parts  Love  's  always  seen  : 
But,  oh  !  he  never  went  within. 

Within  Love  's  foes,  his  greatest  foes^  abide, 

IVIalice,  Inconstancy,  and  Pride  : 
So  the  earth's  face  trees,  herbs,  and  flowers,  do  dress. 

With  other  beauties  numberless ; 
But  at  the  centre  darkness  is,  and  hell ; 
There  wicked  spirits,  and  their  damned,  dwell. 

With  me,  alas !  quite  contrary  it  fares ; 
Darkness  and  death  lie  in  my  weeping  eyes, 
Despair  and  paleness,  in  my  face  appears, 
And  grief,  and  fear.  Love's  greatest  enemies ; 
But,  like  the  Persian  tyrant.  Love  within 
Keeps  his  proud  court,  and  ne'er  is  seen. 

Oh  !  take  my  heart,  and  by  that  means  you  '11  prove 

Within  too  stored  enough  of  love : 
Give  me  but  yours,  I'll  by  that  change  so  thrive. 

That  love  in  all  my  parts  shall  live. 
So  powerful  is  this  change,  it  render  can 
My  outside  Woman,  and  your  inside  Man. 


LOVE       G    t    F   T  .  103 


ALEXANDER  BROME. 

THE    EE.SOLVE. 

Te-lt.  me  not  of  a  face  that's  fair, 

Nor  lip  and  cheek  that 's  red, 
Nor  of  the  tresses  of  her  hair, 

Nor  curls  in  order  laid  ; 
Nor  of  a  rare  seraphic  voice. 

That  like  an  angel  sings ; 
Though  if  I  vi-ere  to  take  my  choice, 

I  would  have  all  these  things. 
But  if  that  thou  wilt  have  me  love, 

And  it  must  be  a  she  5 
Tlie  only  argument  can  move 

Is,  thai  she  will  love  me. 

The  glories  of  your  ladies  he 

But  metaphors  of  things, 
And  but  resemble  what  we  see 

Each  common  object  brings. 
Roses  out-red  their  lips  and  cheeks. 

Lilies  their  whiteness  stain: 
What  fool  is  he  that  substance  seeks. 

And  may  the  shadow  gain  I 
Then  if  thou  'It  have  me  love  a  lass, 

Let  it  be  one  that's  kind. 
Else  I  'm  a  servant  to  the  glass 

That 's  with  Canary  lined- 


104  A       LOVE       GIFT 


THE    ATTEMPT. 

"Why  should  I  blush  and  be  dismay 'd, 

To  tell  you  I  adore  you  ? 
Since  love 's  a  power  that  can't  be-stay'd. 
But  must  by  all  be  once  obey'd, 

And  you  as  well  as  those  before  you. 
Your  beauty  hath  enchain'd  my  mind, 
O  let  me  not  then  cruel  find, 
You  which  are  fair,  and  therefore  should  be  kind. 

Fair  as  the  light,  pure  as  the  ray, 
That  in  the  grey-ey'd  morning 
Leaps  forth  and  propagates  a  day, 
Those  glories  which  in  others  stray, 
Meet  all  in  you  for  your  adorning. 
Since  nature  built  that  goodly  frame, 
And  virtue  has  inspir'd  the  same, 
Let  love  draw  yours  to  meet  ray  raging  flame. 

Joy  of  my  soul,  the  only  thing, 
That 's  my  delight  and  glory, 
From  you  alone  my  love  doth  spring, 
If  one  love  may  another  bring, 
"Twill  crown  our  happy  story. 
Those  fires  I  bum  with  all  are  pure 
And  noble,  yet  too  strong  t'  endure; 
'Twas  you  did  wound, — 'twas  you  that  ought  to  cure. 


LOVE       G   I    r   T  .  105 


JOHN  BULTEEL. 


Chloris,  "t  will  be  for  cither's  rest 
Truly  to  know  each  others  breast. 
I'll  make  the  obscurest  part  of  mine 
Transparent  as  I  would  have  thine  : 

If  you  will  deal  but  so  with  me. 

We  soon  shall  part,  or  soon  agree. 

Know  then,  though  you  were  twice  as  fair, 
K  it  could  be  as  now  you  are. 
And  though  the  graces  of  your  mind 
With  a  resembling  lustre  shined ; 

Yet,  if  you  loved  me  not.  you  'd  see 

I  "d  value  those  as  you  do  me. 

Though  I  a  thousand  times  had  sworn 
My  passion  should  transcend  your  scorn  : 
And  that  your  bright  triumphant  eyes 
Create  a  flame  that  never  dies ; 
Yet,  if  to  me  you  proved  untrue, 
Those  oaths  should  prove  as  false  to  you. 


106  A       LOVE       GIFT 


THOMAS  STANLEY. 


SPEAKING    AND     KISSING. 


The  air  which  thy  smooth  voice  doth  break, 
Into  my  soul  like  lightning  flies; 

My  life  retires  whilst  thou  dost  speak, 
And  thy  soft  breath  its  room  supplies. 

Lost  in  this  pleasing  extacy, 

I  join  my  trembling  lips  to  thine. 

And  back  receive  that  life  from  thee 
Which  I  so  gladly  did  resign. 

Forbear,  Platonic  fools,  t'  inquire 

What  numbers  do  the  soul  compose; 

No  harmony  can  life  inspire. 

But  that  which  from  these  accents  flows. 


CELIA    SINGING. 

Roses  in  breathing  forth  their  scent, 
Or  stars  their  borrow'd  ornament: 
Nymphs  in  their  wat'ry  sphere  that  move. 
Or  angels  in  their  orbs  above ; 
The  winged  chariot  of  the  light, 
Or  the  slow  silent  wheels  of  night; 


A        LOVE       GIFT.  107 

The  shade  which  from  the  swifter  sun 

Doth  in  swifter  motion  run, 

Or  souls  that  their  eternal  rest  do  keep, 

Make  far  less  noise  than  Celia's  breath  in  sleep. 

But  if  the  angel  which  inspires 

This  subtle  flame  with  active  fires, 

Should  mould  this  breath  to  words,  and  those 

Into  a  harmony  dispose  ; 

The  music  of  this  heavenly  sphere 

Would  steal  each  soul  in  at  the  ear, 

And  into  plants  and  stones  infuse 

A  life  that  cherubim  would  chuse. 

And  with  new  powers  invert  the  laws  of  fate, 

Kill  those  that  live,  and  dead  thinsrs  animate. 


GEORGE  VILLIERS, 


DUKE  OF  BUCKIXGHAM. 


Come,  let  us  now  resolve  at  last 
To  live  and  love  in  quiet ; 

We  '11  tie  the  knot  so  very  fast, 
That  time  shall  ne'er  untie  it. 


108  A       LOVE       GIFT 


The  truest  joys  they  seldom  prove, 
WTio  free  from  quarrels  live ; 

'Tis  the  most  tender  part  of  love, 
Each  other  to  forgive. 

When  least  I  seem'd  concern'd,  I  took 

No  pleasure  nor  no  rest; 
And  when  I  feign'd  an  angry  look, 

Alas  !  I  lov'd  you  Lest. 


Say  but  the  same  to  me  ;  you  '11  find 
How  blest  will  be  our  fate  ! 

Oh,  to  be  happy,  to  be  kind, 
Sure  never  is  too  late. 


CHARLES  COTTON. 


Prythee,  why  so  angry,  sweet? 
'Tis  in  vain 

To  dissemble  a  disdain : 
That  frown  i'  th'  infancy  I'll  meet, 
And  kiss  it  to  a  smile  again. 


A       LOVE       GIFT.  109 

In  that  pretty  anger  is 
Such  a  grace, 

As  Love's  fancy  would  embrace, 
As  to  new  crimes  my  youth  entice, 
So  that  disguise  becomes  that  face. 

"WTien  thy  rosy  cheek  thus  checks 
^ly  offence, 

I  could  sin  with  a  pretence : 
Thro'  that  sweet  chiding  blush  there  breaks 
So  fair,  so  bright  an  innocence. 

Thus  your  very  frowns  entrap 
My  desire, 

And  inflame  me  to  admire 
Those  eyes,  drest  in  an  angry  shape, 
Should  kindle  as  with  amorous  lire. 


APHARA  BEHX. 


What  mean  those  amorous  curls  of  jet  ? 

For  what  heart-ravish'd  maid 
Dost  thou  thy  hair  in  order  set, 

Thy  wanton  tresses  braid  ? 
And  thy  vast  store  of  beauties  open  lay, 
That  the  deluded  fancy  leads  astray. 


110  A        I.   O   V   E        GIFT. 

For  pity  hide  thy  starry  eyes. 

Whose  languishments  destroy ; 
And  look  not  on  the  slave  that  dies 

With  an  excess  of  joy. 
Defend  thy  coral  lips,  thy  amher  breath ; 
To  taste  these  sweets,  alas!  is  certain  death. 

Forbear,  fond  charming  Youth,  forbear, 

Thy  words  of  melting  love  : 
Thy  eyes  thy  language  well  may  spare, 

One  dart  enough  can  move. 
And  she  that  hears  thy  voice,  and  sees  thy  eyes, 
With  too  much  pleasure,  too  much  softness  dies. 

Cease,  cease,  with  sighs  to  warm  my  soul, 

Or  press  me  with  thy  hand  : 
Who  can  the  kindling  fire  controul, 

The  tender  force  withstand  ? 
Thy  sighs  and  touches  like  wing'd  lightning  fly, 
And  are  the  God  of  Love's  artillery. 


JOHN  DRYDEN. 

Ask  not  the  cause  why  sullen  Spring 
So  long  delays  her  flowers  to  rear  ? 

Why  warbling  birds  forget  to  sing. 
And  winter  storms  invert  the  year? 

Chloris  is  gone  ;  and  fate  provides 

To  make  it  Spring  where  she  resides. 


A       L   O  V  E       G   I   F  T  .  Ill 

Chloris  is  gone. — The  cruel  Fair, 

She  cast  not  back  a  pitying  eye, 
But  left  her  Lover  in  despair ; 

To  sigh,  to  languish,  and  to  die. 
Ah,  how  can  those  fair  eyes  endure 
To  give  the  wounds  they  cannot  cure  ! 

Great  God  of  Love  !  why  hast  thou  made 
A  face  that  can  all  hearts  command, 

That  all  religions  can  invade, 

And  change  the  laws  of  eveiy  land  ? 

Where  thou  hadst  plac'd  such  power  before, 

Thou  should  St  have  made  her  mercy  more. 

"VSTien  Chloris  to  the  temple  comes, 

Adoring  crowds  before  her  fall; 
She  can  restore  the  dead  from  tombs, 

And  every  life  but  mine  recall : 
I  only  am  by  Love  design'd 
To  be  the  victim  for  mankind ! 


Ah,  how  sweet  it  is  to  love! 

Ah,  how  gay  is  young  Desire  ! 

And  what  pleasing  pains  we  prove 

"VVhen  we  first  approach  Love's  fire  ! 
Pains  of  love  be  sweeter  far 
Than  all  other  pleasures  are. 


112  A       LOVE       GIFT. 

Sighs  which  are  from  lovers  blown 
Do  but  gently  heave  the  heart : 
E'en  the  tears  they  shed  alone 
Cure  like  trickling  balm  their  smart. 
Lovers,  when  they  lose  their  breath, 
Bleed  away  in  easy  death. 

Love  and  Time  with  reverence  use ! 

Treat  them  like  a  parting  friend : 

Nor  the  golden  gifts  refuse 

Which  in  youth  sincere  they  send: 
For  each  year  their  price  is  more, 
And  they  less  simple  than  before. 

Love,  like  spring-tides  full  and  high. 
Swells  in  every  youthful  vein: 
But  each  tide  does  less  supply. 
Till  they  quite  shrink  in  again  : 
If  a  flow  in  age  appear, 
'Tis  but  rain,  and  runs  not  clear. 


GEORGE  ETHEREGE. 

SONG. 

Ladies,  though  to  your  conquering  eyes 
Love  owes  his  chiefest  victories, 
And  borrows  those  bright  arms  from  you, 
With  which  he  does  the  world  subdue  ; 


A       LOVE       GIFT.  113 

Yet  you  yourselves  are  not  above 
The  empire  nor  the  griefs  of  love. 

Then  rack  not  lovers  with  disdain, 
Lest  love  on  you  revenge  their  pain : 
You  are  not  free,  because  you  're  fair, 
The  boy  did  not  his  mother  spare  : 
Though  beauty  be  a  killing  dart, 
It  is  no  armour  for  the  heart. 


CHARLES  SACKVILLE, 


EAEL  OK  DORSET. 


Phtllis.  for  shame  !  let  us  improve, 

A  thousand  different  ways. 
Those  few  short  moments  snatch'd  by  love 

From  many  tedious  days. 

If  you  want  courage  to  despise 

The  censure  of  the  grave, 
Though  Love 's  a  tyrant  in  your  eyes, 

Your  heart  is  but  a  slave. 

My  love  is  full  of  noble  pride  j 

Nor  can  it  e'er  submit, 
To  let  that  fop  Discretion,  ride 

In  triumph  over  it. 


114  AlrOVEGIfT. 

False  friends  I  Iiave  as  well  as  you, 

"Wlio  daily  counsel  me 
Fame  and  ambition  to  pursue, 

And  leave  off  loving  thee. 

But  when  the  least  regard  I  show 
To  fools  who  thus  advise, 

May  1  be  dull  enough  to  grow 
Most  miserably  wise ! 


May  the  ambitious  ever  find 

Success  in  crowds  and  noise, 
While  gentle  love  doth  fill  my  mind 

With  silent  real  joys ! 

Let  knaves  and  fools  grow  rich  and  great 
And  the  world  think  them  wise  : 

Whilst  I  lie  dying  at  her  feet, 
And  all  the  world  despise  ! 

Let  conquering  kings  new  triumphs  raise, 

And  melt  in  court  delights  : 
Her  eyes  can  give  much  brighter  days ! 

Her  arms,  much  softer  nights! 


LOVE       GIFT.  115 


SIR  CHARLES  SEDLEY. 

INDIFFERENCE    EXCUSED. 

Love,  when  "t  is  true,  needs  not  the  aid 
Of  sigh,  nor  oaths,  to  make  it  known: 

And.  to  convince  the  cruel'st  maid, 
Lovers  should  use  their  love  alone. 

Into  their  verj'-  looks  "t  will  steal, 
And  he  that  most  would  hide  his  flame 

Does  in  that  case  his  pain  reveal : 
Silence  itself  can  love  proclaim. 

This,  my  Aurelia,  made  me  shun 

The  paths  that  common  lovers  tread. 

WTiose  guilty  passions  are  begun. 
Not  in  their  heart,  but  in  their  head. 

I  could  not  sigh,  and  with  cross'd  arms 
Accuse  your  rigour,  and  my  fate  : 

Nor  tax  your  beauty  with  such  charms 
As  men  adore,  and  women  hate. 

But  careless  lov'd,  and  without  art, 

Knowing  my  love  you  must  have  spied ; 

And  thinking  it  a  foolish  part 

To  set  to  show  what  none  can  hide. 


IIG  ALOVEGIFT. 


DISINTERESTED    LOVE. 

Phtllis,  men  say  that  all  my  vows 

Are  to  thy  fortune  paid  ; 
Alas  !  my  heart  he  little  knows 

WTio  thinks  my  love  a  trade. 

Were  I,  of  all  these  woods,  the  lord, 

One  berry  from  thy  hand 
More  real  pleasure  would  afford, 

Than  all  my  large  commands. 

My  humble  love  has  learnt  to  live 

On  what  the  nicest  maid. 
Without  a  conscious  blush,  may  give 

Beneath  the  myrtle  shade. 


JOHN  WILMOT, 

KAKL    OF   KOCUESTEE. 
ON    HIS    MISTRESS. 

My  dear  Mistress  has  a  heart 

Soft  as  those  kind  looks  she  gave  me, 
When  with  love's  resistless  dart. 

And  her  eyes  she  did  enslave  me  : 


A       LOVE       GIFT.  117 

But  her  constancy's  so  weak, 
She's  so  wild  and  apt  to  wander, 

That  my  jealous  heart  would  break, 
Should  we  live  one  day  asunder. 

Melting  joys  about  her  move. 

Killing  pleasures,  wounding  blisses  5 
She  can  dress  her  eyes  in  love. 

And  her  lips  can  warm  with  kisses. 
Angels  listen  if  she  speak,  ^ 

She's  my  delight,  all  mankind's  wonder: 
But  my  jealous  heart  would  break, 

Should  we  live  one  day  asunder. 


All  my  past  life  is  mine  no  more, 

The  flying  hours  are  gone  : 
Like  transitory  dreams  given  o'er, 
Those  images  are  kept  in  store 
By  memory  alone. 

The  time  that  is  to  come  is  not; 

How  can  it  then  be  mine  ? 
The  present  moment 's  all  my  lot, 
And  that  as  fast  as  it  is  got, 

Phillis,  is  only  thine. 


118  A       LOVE       GIFT. 

Then  talk  not  of  inconstancy, 

False  hearts  and  broken  vows ; 

If  I,  by  miracle,  can  be 

This  live-lon;5  minute  true  to  thee, 
'T  is  all  that  heaven  allows. 


ANNE,  MARCHIONESS  OF  WHARTON. 


How  HARDLY  I  conceaFd  my  tears. 

How  oft  did  I  complain. 
When  many  tedious  days  my  fears 

Told  me  I  lov'd  in  vain  I 

But  now  my  joys  as  wild  are  grown. 

And  hard  to  be  conceal'd  ; 
Sorrow  may  make  a  silent  moan, 

But  joy  will  be  reveal'd. 

I  tell  it  to  the  bleating  flocks, 

To  every  stream  and  tree, 
And  bless  the  hollow-murmuring  rocks 

For  echoing  back  to  me. 

Thus  you  may  see  with  how  much  joy 
We  want,  we  wish,  believe  : 

'Tis  hard  such  passion  to  destroy 
But  easy  to  deceive ! 


L   O   V   E       r,    I   F   T  .  119 


CHARLES  MORDANT, 

EAl'-I.   OF    i'ETECKOEOroir. 

I  SATD  to  my  heart,  between  sleeping  and  waking, 
'  Thou  wild  thing,  that  always  art  leaping  or  aching, 
What  black,  brown,  or  fair,  in  what  clime,  in  what 

nation, 
By  turns  has  not  taught  thee  a  pit-a-patation  ? " 

Thus  accused,  the  wild  thing  gave  this  sober  reply : — 
'  See,  the  heart  without  motion,  though  Celia  pass  by  ! 
Not  the  beauty  she  has,  not  the  wit  that  she  borrows, 
Give  the  eye  any  joys,  or  the  heart  any  sorrows. 

'  When  our  Sappho  appears — she,  whose  wit  so  refined 
I  am  forced  to  applaud  with  the  rest  of  mankind  — 
Whatever  she  says  is  with  spirit  and  fire ; 
Every  word  I  attend,  but  I  only  admire. 

'  Prudentia  as  vainly  would  put  in  her  claim, 
Ever  gazing  on  heaven,  though  man  is  her  aim : 
'Tis  love,  not  devotion,  that  turns  up  her  eyes  — 
Those  stars  of  this  world  are  too  good  for  the  skies. 

'  But  Chloe  so  lively,  so  easy,  so  fair, 
Her  wit  so  genteel,  without  art,  without  care. 
When  she  comes  in  my  way  —  the  motion,  the  pain, 
The  leapings,  the  achings,  return  all  again.' 


120  A       LOVE       GIFT. 

O  wonderful  creature !  a  woman  of  reason  ! 
Never  grave  out  of  pride,  never  gay  out  of  season  ; 
When  so  easy  to  guess  who  this  angel  should  be, 
Would  one  think  JMrs.  Howard  ne'er  dreamt  it  was  she  ? 


JOHN  CUTTS, 


BAEOX  GOWKAX 


Only  tell  her  that  I  love, 

Leave  the  rest  to  Her  and  Fate ! 
Some  kind  planet,  from  above. 
May  perhaps  her  pity  move : 

Lovers  on  their  stars  must  wait : 
Only  tell  her,  that  I  love ! 

Why  J  oh,  why  should  I  despair  1 
Mercy's  pictur'd  in  her  eye  : 

If  she  once  vouchsafe  to  hear. 

Welcome  hope,  and  welcome  fear, 
She's  too  good  to  let  nie  die  : 

Why,  oh,  why  should  I  despair  1 


1-21 


FRANCIS  ATTERBURY. 


ON    A    FAN, 

Flavia  the  least  and  slightest  toy 

Can  with  resistless  art  employ ! 

This  Fan  in  meaner  hands  would  prove 

An  engine  of  small  force  in  love : 

Yet  she  with  graceful  air  and  mien, 

Not  to  be  told,  or  safely  seen, 

Directs  its  wanton  motions  so 

That  it  wounds  more  than  Cupid's  bow ; 

Gives  coolness  to  the  matchless  dame, 

To  every  other  breast  —  z.  flame! 


MATTHEW  PRIOR. 


While  from  our  looks,  fair  nymph,  you  guess 
The  secret  passions  of  the  mind; 

My  heavy  eyes,  you  say,  confess 
A  heart  to  love  and  grief  inclin'd. 


122  A       LOVE       GIFT. 

There  needs,  alas  !  but  little  art 
To  have  this  fatal  secret  found  ; 

With  the  same  ease  you  threw  the  dart 
'Tis  certain  you  can  show  the  wound. 

How  can  I  see  you,  and  not  love, 
While  you  as  opening  east  are  fair? 

While  cold  as  northern  blasts  you  prove, 
How  can  I  love,  and  not  despair  1 

The  wretch,  in  double  fetters  bound, 
Your  potent  mercy  may  release  : 

Soon,  if  my  love  but  once  were  crown'd. 
Fair  Prophetess!  my  grief  would  cease. 


In  vain  you  tell  your  parting  Lover, 
You  wish  fair  winds  may  waft  him  over: 
Alas  !  "what  winds  can  happy  prove. 
That  bear  me  far  from  what  I  love  1 
Alas !  what  dangers  on  the  main 
Can  equal  those  that  I  sustain. 
From  slighted  vows  and  cold  disdain? 

Be  gentle,  and  in  pity  choose 
To  wish  the  wildest  tempest  loose: 
That,  thrown  again  upon  the  coast 
Where  first  my  shipwreck'd  heart  was  lost, 


A       LOVE       GIFT.  123 

I  may  once  more  repeat  my  pain  ; 
Once  more  in  dying  notes  complain 
Of  slighted  vows,  and  cold  disdain ! 


GEORGE  GRANVILLE, 


LORD  LANSDOW: 


No  WARNING  of  th'  approaching  flame. 
Swiftly,  like  sudden  death,  it  came ; 
Like  travellers  by  lightning  kilFd  ; 
I  burn'd  the  moment  I  beheld. 

In  whom  so  many  charms  are  plac'd, 
Is  with  a  mind  as  nobly  gracYl ; 
The  case,  so  sJiining  to  behold. 
Is  fiird  with  richest  gems  and  gold. 

To  what  my  eyes  admir'd  before, 
I  add  a  thousand  graces  more  ; 
And  fancy  blows  into  a  flame 
The  spark  that  from  her  beauty  came. 

The  object  thus  improv'd  by  thought. 
By  my  own  image  I  am  caught ! 
Pygmalion  so,  with  fatal  art, 
Polish'd  the  form  that  stung  his  heart. 


124  ALOVEGIFT 


WILLIAM  CONGREYE. 


See,  see,  she  Avakes,  Sabrina  wakes! 

And  now  the  sun  begins  to  rise; 
Less  glorious  is  the  morn  that  breaks 

From  his  bright  beams,  than  her  fair  eyes. 

With  light  united,  day  they  give; 

But  different  fates  ere  night  fulfil : 
How  many  by  his  warmth  will  live  ! 

How  many  will  her  coldness  kill ! 


Cruel  Amynta!  can  you  see 

A  heart  thus  torn,  which  you  betray'd? 
Love  of  himself  ne'er  vanquish'd  me, 

But  through  your  eyes  the  conquest  made. 

In  ambush  there  the  traitor  lay, 

Where  I  was  led  by  faithless  smiles  ; 

No  wretches  are  so  lost  as  they 
Whom  much  security  beguiles  ! 


A       L   O  V    E       G   I   F   T  .  125 


SAMUEL  SAY. 


TO    VALENTINE,    0.\    THE    RETURN    OF    SPRING. 

Hail,  best  of  Bishops,  and  of  Saints  the  best 
By  flaming  Love  distinguished  from  the  rest; 
By  love,  the  life  in  heaven,  and  business  of  the  blest. 

Love  made  the  world  !      'T  was   love   alone   could 

draw 
The  disagreeing  seeds  to  Nature's  law ; 
Heaven  saw  the  effects  of  Love,  and  bless'd  them  when 
it  saw. 

Hence,  mighty  Saint,  thy  power  deriv'd  from  Love, 
Thy  great  commission  reaches  all  above; 
And  earth  and  sea  beneath,  and  all  that  live  and  move. 

Thou  call'st  the  flowers !  they  feel  the  glad  com- 
mand : 
On  sunny  banks  in  smiling  rows  they  stand. 
Broke   from   their   mother's   womb,   and   dress'd  by 
Nature's  hand. 

By  thee  the  birds  salute  the  welcome  Spring, 
Inspir'd  by  thee  and  Love,  in  pairs  they  sing: 
With  music  and  with  joy  the  woods  and  vallies  ring. 


l'2i)  A        L   O  V   E       G  1   F  T  . 

Fierce  tigers  yield  to  thee !     To  hear  thy  voice, 
The  gentle  hind  and  rugged  bears  rejoice; 
And  fishes  scud  the  waves,  to  meet  their  happy  choice. 

See,  see,  the  cheerful  morn  !    how  bright  it  shines  ! 
With  larger  steps  the  Sun  his  course  reclines, 
As  conscious  of  thy  day,  as  favouring  thy  designs : 

All  wed  below,  and  he  above  would  wed  ; 
The  youthful  earth  has  drest  her  fragrant  bed, 
And  promises  her  shades  to  shroud  her  radiant  head. 

At  his  approach  the  storms  and  winter  fly; 
The  joyful  bride  her  snowy  vest  lays  by. 
Nor  does,  untimely  coy,  her  naked  form  deny. 

Ah!  could  thy  power  so  warm  Lucretia's  heart, 
And  make  the  winter  there  and  cold  depart ; 
How  wouldst  thou  bless  a  wretch,  and  ease  his  raging 
smart ! 

Couldst  thou  but  make  her  soul  consent  with  mine, 
And  with  her  heart  her  answering  hands  to  join  ! 
For  thee  should  Phcebus  sing,  and  all  the  tuneful  Nine. 

While  I  in  annual  songs  thy  name  would  raise. 
Thy  day  should  stand  above  the  rest  of  days. 
All  lovers  bless  the  Saint !  and  crown  my  head  with 
bays ! 


LOVE       GIFT.  127 


THOMAS  PARNELL. 


When  thy  beauty  appears 
In  its  graces  and  airs, 
All  bright  as  an  angel  new  dropt  from  the  sky, 

At  distance  I  gaze,  and  am  aw'd  by  ray  fears, 
So  strangely  you  dazzle  my  eye ! 


But  when  without  art 
Your  kind  thoughts  you  impart. 
When  your  love  runs  in  blushes  through  every  vein ; 
When  it  darts  in  your  eyes,  when  it  pants  in 

your  heart, 
Then  I  know  you're  a  woman  again. 


'  There 's  a  passion  and  pride 
In  our  se3^(she  replied), 
And  thus  (might  I  gratify  both)  I  would  do : 

Still  an  angel  appear  to  each  lover  beside, 
But  still  be  a  woman  to  you.' 


128  A       LOVE       GIFT 


BARTON   BOOTH. 


SWEET    ARE    THE    CHARMS    OF    HER    1    LOVE. 


Sweet  are  the  charms  of  her  I  love, 
More  fragrant  than  the  damask  rose, 

Soft  as  the  down  of  turtle-dove, 
Gentle  as  air  when  Zephyr  blows, 

Refreshing  as  descending  rains 

To  sun-burnt  climes,  and  thirsty  plains. 


True  as  the  needle  to  the  pole. 

Or  as  the  dial  to  the  sun ; 
Constant  as  gilding  waters  roll. 

Whose  swelling  tides  obey  the  moon ; 
From  every  other  charmer  free, 
My  life  and  love  shall  follow  thee. 


The  lamb  the  flowery  thyme  devours. 
The  dam  the  tender  kid  pursues  ; 

Sweet  Philomel,  in  shady  bowers 
Of  verdant  spring,  her  note  renews ; 

All  follow  what  they  most  admire, 

As  I  pursue  my  soul's  desire. 


A        LOVE       GIFT.  l^d 

Nature  must  change  her  beauteous  face, 

And  vary  as  the  seasons  rise ; 
As  winter  to  the  spring  gives  place, 

Summer  th'  approach  of  autumn  flies : 
No  change  in  love  the  seasons  bring. 
Love  only  knows  perpetual  spring. 

Devouring  Time,  with  stealing  pace, 
Makes  lofty  oaks  and  cedars  bow ; 

And  marble  towers,  and  gates  of  brass, 
In  his  rude  march  he  levels  low  : 

But  time,  destroying  far  and  wide. 

Love  from  the  soul  can  ne'er  divide. 

Death  only  with  his  cruel  dart, 
The  gentle  godhead  can  remove; 

And  drive  him  from  the  bleeding  heart 
To  mingle  with  the  bless'd  above, 

Where,  known  to  all  his  kindred  train, 

He  finds  a  lasting  rest  from  pain. 

Love,  and  his  sister  fair,  the  soul. 

Twin-born,  from  heaven  together  canxe  : 

Love  will  the  universe  control. 

When  dying  seasons  lose  their  name ; 

Divine  abodes  shall  own  his  power 
When  time  and  death  shall  be  no  more. 


130  A       LOVE       GIFT. 


AARON  HILL. 


Oh  !  forbear  to  bid  me  slight  her, 
Soul  and  senses  take  her  part ; 

Could  my  death  itself  delight  her, 
Life  should  leap  to  leave  my  heart. 

Strong,  though  soft,  a  lover's  chain ; 

CharmVl  with  woe,  and  pleas'd  with  pain. 

Though  the  tender  flame  were  dying. 
Love  would  light  it  at  her  eyes ; 

Or,  her  tuneful  voice  applying, 
Through  my  ear  my  soul  surprise. 

Deaf,  I  see  the  fate  I  shun ; 

Blind,  I  hear  I  am  undone. 


JAMES  THOMSON. 


For  ever,  Fortune,  wilt  thou  prove 
An  unrelenting  foe  to  Love, 
And  when  we  meet  a  mutual  heart, 
Come  in  between,  and  bid  us  parti 


A       L   O   V   E       G  I   F   T  .  131 

Bid  US  sigh  on  from  day  to  day, 
And  \vish,  and  wish  the  soul  away; 
Till  youth  and  genial  years  are  flown, 
And  all  the  love  of  life  is  gone  ? 

But  busy,  busy  still  art  thou, 
To  bind  the  loveless,  joyless  vow, 
The  heart  from  pleasure  to  delude, 
To  join  the  gentle  to  the  rude. 

For  once,  O  Fortune  !  hear  my  prayer, 
And  I  absolve  thy  future  care ; 
All  other  blessings  I  resign. 
Make  but  the  dear  Amanda  mine. 


Unless  with  my  Amanda  bless'd. 
In  vain  I  twine  the  woodbine  bower: 

Unless  to  deck  her  sweeter  breast, 
In  vain  I  rear  the  breathing  flower. 

Awaken'd  by  the  genial  year, 

In  vain  the  birds  around  me  sing; 

In  vain  the  freshning  fields  appear:  — 
"Without  my  love  there  is  no  Spring. 


132  A   LOVE   GIFT 


HENRY  CAREY. 


To  BE  gazing  on  those  charms, 
To  be  folded  in  those  arms, 
To  unite  my  lips  with  those 
Whence  eternal  sweetness  flows. 

To  be  lov'd  by  one  so  fair; 

Is  to  be  blest  beyond  compare  ! 

On  that  bosom  to  recline 

WTiile  that  hand  is  lock'd  in  mine ; 

In  those  eyes  myself  to  view. 

Gazing  still  and  still  on  you : 
To  be  lov'd  by  one  so  fair, 
Is  to  be  bless"d  beyond  compare ! 


ROBERT  DODSLEY. 


Come,  my  fairest !  learn  of  me, 
Learn  to  give  and  take  the  bliss  ! 

Come  !  my  Love,  here's  none  but  we  : 
I  '11  instruct  thee  how  to  Idss. 


A       r.  O  V  E       G  I  F  T  .  133 

Why  turn  fom  me  that  dear  face  ? 

Why  that  blush  and  downcast  eye  ? 
Come,  come,  meet  my  fond  embrace, 

And  the  mutual  rapture  try. 

Throw  thy  lovely  twining  arms 

Round  my  neck  and  round  my  waist; 
And,  whilst  I  devour  thy  charms, 

Let  me  closely  be  embrac'd : 
Then  when  soft  ideas  rise, 

And  the  gay  desires  grow  strong, 
Let  them  sparkle  in  thy  eyes, 

Let  them  murmur  from  thy  tongue. 

To  my  breast  with  rapture  cling! 

Look  with  transport  on  my  face  ! 
Kiss  me,  press  me  !  every  thing, 

To  endear  the  fond  embrace. 
Every  tender  name  of  love, 

Li  soft  whispers  let  me  hear; 
And  let  speaking  nature  prove 

Every  ecstasy  sincere. 


Whilst  on  thy  dear  bosom  toying, 
Coplia !  who  can  speak  my  bliss  1 

Who  the  raptures  I  'm  enjoying. 
When  thy  balmy  lips  I  kiss  I 


134  A       LOVE       GIFT. 

Every  look  with  love  inspires  me, 
Every  touch  my  bosom  wai-ms, 

Every  melting  murmur  fires  me, 
Every  joy  is  in  thy  arms. 

Those  dear  eyes  how  soft  they  languish ! 

Feel  my  heart  with  rapture  beat ! 
Pleasure  turns  almost  to  anguish, 

When  the  transport  is  so  sweet. 
Look  not  so  divinely  on  me, 

Coelia !  I  shall  die  with  bliss  : 
Yet,  yet  turn  those  eyes  upon  me ! 

Who  'd  not  die  a  death  like  this  1 


SOAME  JENYNS. 

CHLOE    HUNTING. 

Whilst  thousands  court  fair  Chloe's  love, 

She  fears  the  dangerous  joy, 
But,  Cynthia-like,  frequents  the  grove, 

As  lovely  and  as  coy. 

With  the  same  speed  she  seeks  the  hind, 

Or  hunts  the  flying  hare  ; 
She  leaves  pursuing  swains  behind, 

To  languish  and  despair. 


A       LOVE       GIFT.  135 

Oh,  strange  caprice  in  thy  dear  breast. 
Whence  first  this  whim  began  ; 

To  follow  thus  each  worthless  beast, 
And  shun  their  sovereign,  man! 

Consider,  fair,  what 't  is  you  do, 

How  thus  they  both  must  die-, 
Not  surer  they,  when  you  pursue. 

Than  we,  whene'er  you  fly. 


GEORGE,  LORD  LYTTLETON. 

TO    LUCY. 

When  I  think  on  your  truth,  I  doubt  you  no  more, 

I  blame  all  the  fears  I  gave  way  to  before : 

I  say  to  my  heart,  'be  at  rest,  and  believe 

That  whom  once  she  has  chosen  she  never  will  leave.' 

But,  ah !  when  I  think  of  each  ravishing  grace 
That  plays  in  the  smiles  of  that  heavenly  face, 
IMy  heart  beats  again ;  I  again  apprehend 
Some  fortunate  rival  in  every  friend. 

These  painful  suspicions  you  cannot  remove; 
Since  you  neither  can  lessen  your  charms,  nor  my  love: 
But  doubts  caus'd  by  passion  you  never  can  blame : 
For  they  are  not  ill-founded,  or  you  feel  the  same. 


136  ALOVEGIFT 


PRAYER    TO    VENUS,    IN    HER    TEMPLE    AT    STOWE. 

Fair  Venus,  whose  delightful  shrine  surveys 

Its  front  reflected  in  the  silver  lake, 
These  humble  oiferings,  which  thy  servant  pays, 

Fresh  flowers  and  myrtle-wreaths  propitious  take 

If  less  my  love  exceeds  all  other  love, 

Than  Lucy's  charms  all  other  charms  excel, 

Far  from  my  breast  each  soothing  hope  remove: 
And  there  let  sad  despair  for  ever  dwell. 

But  if  my  soul  is  fill'd  with  her  alone, 
No  other  wish  or  other  object  knows  ; 

Oh!  make  her,  Goddess,  make  her  all  my  own. 
And  give  my  trembling  heart  secure  repose. 

No  watchful  spies  I  ask,  to  guard  her  charms  ; 

No  walls  of  brass,  no  steel-defended  door: 
Place  her  but  once  within  my  circling  arms, 

Love's  surest  fort,  and  I  will  doubt  no  more ! 


JOHN  ARMSTRONG. 

LOVE    RESISTLESS. 

Almighty  Love!  oh  inexhausted  source 

Of  universal  joy !  flrst  principle 

Of  all  creating  nature  !  harmony 

By  which  her  mighty  movements  all  are  rul'd 


A       LOVE       GIFT.  137 

Soft  tyrant  of  each  element :  whose  sway- 
Resistless  through  the  wilds  of  air  is  felt. 
Through  earth,  and  the  deep  empire  of  the  main  ! 
Thy  willing  slaves,  we  own  thy  gentle  power, 
In  us  supreme,  with  kind  endearments  rais'd, 
Above  the  merely  sensual  touch  of  brutes. 
By  thy  soft  charm  the  savage  breast  is  tam"d, 
The  genius  rais'd.     Thy  heavenly  warmth  inspires 
"VVhate'er  is  noble,  generous,  or  humane, 
Or  elegant ;  whate'er  adorns  the  mind, 
Graces  and  sweetens  life :  and  without  thee 
Nothing  or  gay  or  amiable  appears. 


WILLIAM  THO.AIPSOX. 

THE  lover's   night. 

Lull'd  in  the  arms  of  him  she  lov'd, 

lanthe  sighed  the  kindest  things  ; 

Her  fond  surrender  he  approv'd 

With  smiles ;  and  thus,  enamour'd,  sings. 

'  How  sweet  are  lovers  vows  by  night, 
Lap'd  in  a  honey-suckle  grove  ! 
WTien  Venus  sheds  her  gentle  light, 
And  soothes  the  yielding  soul  to  love. 


138  A       LOVE       GIFT. 

'  Soft  as  the  silent-footed  dews 
That  steal  upon  the  star-light  hours; 
Warm  as  a  love-sick  poet's  muse ; 
And  fragrant  as  the  breath  of  flow'rs. 

'  To  hear  our  vows  the  moon  grows  pale, 
And  pants  Endymion's  warmth  to  prove ; 
While  emulous,  the  Nightingale 
Thick-warbling  trills  her  lay  of  love. 

'  The  silver-sounding  shining  spheres 
That  animate  the  glowing  skies, 
Nor  charm  so  much,  as  thou,  my  ears, 
Nor  bless  so  much,  as  thou,  my  eyes. 

'  Thus  let  me  clasp  thee  to  my  heart. 
Thus  sink  in  softness  on  thy  breast ! 
No  cares  shall  haunt  us,  danger  part, 
For  ever  loving,  ever  blest. 

'  Censorious  envy  dares  not  blame 
The  passion  which  thy  truth  inspires; 
Ye  stars,  bear  witness  that  my  flame 
Is  chaste  as  your  eternal  fires  !' 

Love  saw  them  (hid  among  the  boughs,) 
And  heard  him  sing  their  mutual  bliss  ! 
'Enjoy,'  cried  he,  '  lanthe's  vows; 
But,  oh  !  I  envy  thee  her  kiss.' 


A       LOVE       GIFT.  139 

SIR    C.    H.    WILLIA.AIS. 

IMITATION  OF  MARTIAL. 

Come,  Chloe,  and  give  me  sweet  kisses, 

For  sweeter  sure  girl  never  gave ; 
But  why,  in  the  midst  of  my  blisses. 

Do  you  ask  me  how  many  I  'd  have  ? 
I'm  not  to  be  stinted  in  pleasure, 

Then  prithee,  my  charmer,  be  kind ; 
For  whilst  I  love  thee  above  measure, 

To  numbers  I'll  ne'er  be  confin'd. 

Count  the  bees  that  on  Hybla  are  playing, 

Count  the  flow'rs  that  enamel  its  fields ; 
Count  the  flocks  that  on  Tempe  are  straying. 

Or  the  grain  that  rich  Sicily  yields  : 
Go  number  the  stars  in  the  heaven. 

Count  how  many  sands  on  the  shore : 
When  so  many  kisses  you  've  given, 

I  still  shall  be  craving  for  more. 

To  a  heart  full  of  love,  let  me  hold  thee : 

To  a  heart  which,  dear  Chloe,  is  thine  ! 
With  my  arms  I  '11  for  ever  enfold  thee. 

And  twist  round  thy  limbs  like  a  vine. 
What  joy  can  be  greater  than  this  is  \  — 

My  life  on  thy  lips  shall  be  spent ! 
But  the  wretch  that  can  number  his  kisses, 

With  few  will  be  ever  content. 


140  A       LOVE       GIFT. 


WILLIAM  FALCONER. 


A  ny:mph  of  eveiy  charm  possess'd 

That  native  virtue  gives, 
Within  my  bosom  all-confess'd, 

In  bright  idea  lives. 
For  her  my  trembling  numbers  play 

Along  the  pathless  deep, 
While,  sadly  social  with  my  lay, 

The  winds  in  concert  weep. 

If  beauty's  sacred  influence  charms 

The  rage  of  adverse  fate, 
Say,  why  the  pleasing  soft  alarms 

Such  cruel  pangs  create  ? 
Since  all  her  thoughts,  by  sense  refin'd, 

Unartful  truth  express, 
Say,  wherefore  sense  and  truth  are  join'd 

To  give  my  soul  distress  ? 

If  when  her  blooming  lips  I  press, 

Which  vernal  fragrance  fills, 
Through  all  my  veins  the  sweet  excess 

In  trembling  motion  thrills  ; 
Say,  whence  this  secret  anguish  grows. 

Congenial  with  my  joy? 
And  why  the  touch,  where  pleasure  glows, 

Should  vital  peace  destroy  ? 


A       LOVE       GIFT.  141 

If  when  my  Fair  in  melting  song 

Awakes  the  vocal  lay, 
Not  all  your  notes,  ye  Phocian  throng, 

Such  pleasing  sounds  convey; 
Thus  wrapt  all  o'er  with  fondest  love, 

WTiy  heaves  this  broken  sigh  1 
For  then  my  blood  forgets  to  move : 

I  gaze,  adore,  and  die. 

Accept,  my  charming  ]Maid,  the  strain 

Which  you  alone  inspire ; 
To  thee  the  dying  strings  complain, 

That  quiver  on  my  lyre. 
O  !  give  this  bleeding  bosom  ease. 

That  knows  no  joys  but  thee ; 
Teach  me  thy  happy  art  to  please, 

Or  deign  to  love  like  me  ! 


ANNA  L.ETITIA  EARBAULD. 

SOXG. 

Whe.n  first  upon  your  tender  cheek 
I  saw  the  morn  of  beauty  break 

With  mild  and  cheering  beam, 
I  bow'd  before  your  infant  shrine. 
The  earliest  sighs  you  had  were  mine, 

And  you  my  darling  theme. 


142  A       LOVE       GIFT. 

I  saw  you  in  that  opening  morn 
For  beauty's  boundless  empire  born, 

And  first  confess'd  your  sway; 
And  ere  your  thoughts,  devoid  of  art, 
Could  learn  the  value  of  a  heart, 

I  gave  my  heart  away. 


I  watch'd  the  dawn  of  every  grace, 
And  gaz'd  upon  that  angel  face. 

While  yet 't  was  safe  to  gaze ; 
And  fondly  bless'd  each  rising  charm, 
Nor  thought  such  innocence  could  harm 

The  peace  of  future  days. 


But  now  despotic  o'er  the  plains 
The  awful  noon  of  beauty  reigns, 

And  kneeling  crowds  adore ; 
These  charms  arise  too  fiercely  bright, 
Danger  and  death  attend  the  sight, 

And  I  must  hope  no  more. 


Thus  to  the  rising  God  of  day 
Their  early  vows  the  Persians  pay, 

And  bless  the  spreading  fire  ; 
Whose  glowing  chariot  mounting  soon 
Pours  on  their  heads  the  burning  noon ; 

They  sicken  and  expire. 


LOVE       GIFT.  143 


WILLIAM  CRAWFURD. 

TWEEDSIDE. 

What  beauties  does  Flora  disclose  ! 

How  sweet  are  her  smiles  upon  Tweed ! 
Yet  Mary's  still  sweeter  than  those, 

Both  nature  and  fancy  exceed. 
Nor  daisy,  nor  sweet-blushing  rose, 

Not  all  the  gay  flowers  of  the  field, 
Not  Tweed  gliding  gently  through  those, 

Such  beauty  and  pleasure  does  yield. 

The  warblers  are  heard  in  the  grove, 

The  linnet,  the  lark,  and  the  thrush. 
The  blackbird,  and  sweet-cooing  dove, 

With  music  enchant  every  bush. 
Come  let  us  go  forth  to  the  mead. 

Let  us  see  how  the  primroses  spring ; 
We  '11  lodge  in  some  village  on  Tweed, 

And  love  while  the  feather'd  folks  sing. 

How  does  my  love  pass  the  long  day  ? 

Does  3Iary  not  tend  a  few  sheep  ? 
Do  they  never  carelessly  stray, 

While  happily  she  lies  asleep  ? 
Tweed's  murmurs  should  lull  her  to  rest; 

Kind  nature  indulging  my  bliss, 
To  relieve  the  soft  pains  of  my  breast, 

I  "d  steal  an  ambrosial  kiss. 


144  A       LOVE       GIFT. 

'T  is  she  does  the  virgins  excel, 

No  beauty  with  her  may  compare : 
Love's  graces  around  her  do  dwell ; 

She  's  fairest  where  thousands  are  fair, 
Say  charmer  where  do  thy  flocks  stray, 

Oh  tell  me  at  noon  where  they  feed ; 
Shall  I  seek  them  on  smooth-winding  Tay, 

Or  the  pleasanter  banks  of  the  Tweed  ? 


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